


(for the very) First Time

by oddegg



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-21
Updated: 2010-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:50:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddegg/pseuds/oddegg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Puck's still got a first time he can give Kurt. At least he can if a) Puck can get him to understand that, b) Puck doesn't fuck up, and c) if the prissy little shit'll stop treating Puck like a fucking girl and just <em>take</em> it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(for the very) First Time

**Author's Note:**

> A follow up to [Like a Virgin](http://archiveofourown.org/works/105240).
> 
> A tip of the hat to [](http://alicebluegown16.livejournal.com/profile)[**alicebluegown16**](http://alicebluegown16.livejournal.com/)  for the scene where Kurt sings 'Talk Dirty To Me' and for the Stephen Lynch song!
> 
> And because she was so flatteringly psyched about this when I told her about it, this is dedicated to [](http://audreytiphaine.livejournal.com/profile)[**audreytiphaine**](http://audreytiphaine.livejournal.com/).

It’s midday, it’s mid July and it is, frankly, too fucking hot.

Puck doesn’t mind the heat – any excuse to go shirtless is a good excuse – but the heat means their weekly ‘New Directions Continued Contact’ meeting (yeah, Berry had named ‘em. Surprise) has morphed into a pool party at Brittany’s and the amount of naked flesh on display is distracting Puck from what he’s trying to talk to Santana about.

If you’d told him a year ago that there would come a day when he’d be trying to ignore hot chicks in swimwear because he wanted to _talk_ then Puck would have laughed himself sick. And then probably punched you.

But although seeing Brittany or Santana in a bikini is never going to be a bad thing – or Quinn, who’s still carrying a few pounds from Beth and who suits every extra ounce; or Tina, who’s wearing a sporty one piece which doesn’t hide the sporty body underneath; or Mercedes, who’s just one loud, generous package of curves with the bright bows on her costume tempting you to unwrap her…

So, yeah. Not a bad thing, but a bit distracting.

Of course, it’s not just the chicks he’s looking at and that’s the thing, isn’t it? It’s not even _mainly_ the chicks he’s ogling, and that’s what you could call the opening chords of his problem.

Because what Puck’s mainly looking at is Kurt, lounging under an umbrella with Aretha and a drink, bitching about what the sun’s doing to his skin and insisting on wearing a shirt. But the shirt’s thin, thin cotton which doesn’t hide a thing and Kurt’s wearing it open over his smooth, pale chest, showing off the unexpected taut musculature of it and the neat shadowed edges of a discrete six pack that Puck has spent many happy hours tracing with his tongue.

The goddamn little cock-tease is also wearing the tiniest pair of shorts that Puck’s ever seen and his legs are fucking _endless_ and Puck’s sort of imaging them wrapped round his…

What feels like a steel nail jabs him in the ribs.

“OW!! What the fuck, Santana?!”

You see what he means about distracting? Puck had even forgotten he was sitting right next to a _raging psycho bitch_.

Santana just raises an eyebrow at him. “Puckerman, you asked to talk to _me_ , remember? Now, do you want to stop gazing soulfully at your nancy boy and tell me what’s wrong so I can make fun of you and then get back to my girlfriend?”

Puck looks over to where Brittany and Mike are practicing dance moves that involve Britt going down into the splits and sends an automatic, half hearted leer over at Santana. She rolls her eyes at him and prods him again, thankfully with her elbow and not her scary-ass sharp fingernails. “Come on. Give”

But Puck’s still watching Britt, who’s looking round now for something and he knows she’s found it when she looks their way and her face just _lights up_. And Puck knows that Brittany honestly thinks that fireflies are made out of moonlight, and that she believes her cat can understand what she says, and that she’ll sit through ‘Saw’ without blinking an eye but she cries like a baby when she watches ‘Toy Story’ and that she’s one of the kindest people he’s met in his life. And he knows that she doesn’t even see him right now because she’s looking at the girl sat next to him like Santana is the first, last and best thing she’s ever known.

And Puck wants to ask Santana _‘Do you ever want to give her something **new**?’_ and he wants to ask her _‘Do you ever feel like you’ve made her dirty just because you’ve touched her?’_ but that isn’t how they work and besides, he knows the answers anyway.

So he sighs and smiles sideways at Santana and tells her “It doesn’t matter, Lopez. Go on back to your girl. Give me something hot to look at, yeah?”

The leer is less of a token this time because, dude, hot lesbians making out is always a good thing, but Santana’s frowning and if Puck looked really close and the light was just right he might be able to claim he saw concern. He shakes his head at her and she shrugs and turns away to go and join Britt. Puck knows she’d beat it out of him if she felt she had to, so he must be faking it well enough to pass.

He listens to the splashing and squealing from the water fight Tina, Mike and Matt are having in the pool (the squealing coming mainly from Matt, and Puck absently reminds himself to give him hell for it later), watches as Artie swims about them, fluid and free from the weight of his wheelchair and his legs in the water – and then his eyes snap to Kurt before his brain’s even registered the boy had moved.

Kurt’s stood up from his lounger; stepped forward from the shade into full sunlight and he’s got one hand raised to shadow his eyes as he turns his head back to say something to Mercedes that has the girl laughing. He’s standing with one hip cocked and his shirt is pushed back slightly off his shoulders, the loose sides of it curtaining his chest and hell, the boy really can’t tan, can he? He’s so pale in the bright, harsh gold of the sunlight; clean and untouched and so white that he’s nearly _shining_. So dazzling that Puck has to duck his head and look away and focus on the chugging pool filter that’s between him and the water everyone else is enjoying.

Puck thinks he should offer to have a look at that for Brittany. He’s got the equipment, and it’s not like he hasn’t got the time. His client list has fallen off some now he’s made it clear he doesn’t provide extras with his pool service any more.

  
* * *

  
The thing is. The vague, inarticulate thing that he wanted to run past Santana is… It’s that Puck’s had a lot of new experiences, a lot of first times in his life, but none of them have been with Kurt and that’s starting to bug him.

 _Kurt’s_ had plenty of first times with Puck – not his very first kiss because that had been with Brittany during his brief and totally unconvincing attempt at heterosexuality (and Puck sometimes wonders if Santana finds the fact that Kurt and Britt had done that as weird and uncomfortably hot as he does) but definitely his first kiss with a guy, and he’s pretty sure his first proper French kiss as well.

Kurt’s not the first guy Puck’s kissed though, which yeah, he knows – call him Mr Hypocrite. But there’d been an out of town party and he’d just turned 16 and these two college chicks both stacked like porn stars had promised to make out with each other if Puck and another guy at the party did first and really, who’s going to say no to that? _Dude_ , they were hot, blonde, _college girls_. And anyway, there was no-one at the party who knew him.

People who knew him or not, Puck remembered that he’d chucked Kurt in the dumpster the next Monday at school, and made sure to slushie him and he thinks slammed him into a locker as well.

Sometimes he wonders if the tight, sick feeling he gets occasionally when he looks at Kurt is always going to be there. _‘That’s called guilt, dumbass’_ Santana had said over the phone when he told her about it once, cheap rum loosening his mouth a bit too much. _‘It means you might actually be growing into a real boy – congratulations and can we never talk about this again?’_

He doesn’t think its guilt. Or not all of it anyway. He’s Jewish, he knows guilt. Nah, he’s pretty sure that most of its shame; which is a similar tune but a different beat and the bass line on that one really gets you in the gut.

  
* * *

  
So, while he kinda loves the fact that he’s Kurt’s first for a lot of things; loves the fact that his boyfriend has never felt these things with other guys, he also kinda hates that he can’t give that back to Kurt.

It isn’t that it’s not special; that Kurt kissing him and Kurt touching him and Kurt blowing him doesn’t make Puck feel really, _really_ good – probably better than he’s felt with anyone else – but for fuck’s sake, he can’t even say that Kurt’s is the first dick he’s ever had in his mouth which, for an ex-homophobe-acting jock, is pretty fucking poor.

His first had been at a summer camp his mom had sent him to just before 9th grade. Jewish camp so there was no hot-dogs to roast at the campfires, you roughed it even more than usual on the Friday and – oh yeah – none of his friends were there. So fooling around with one of the teenage camp councillors hadn’t seemed such a risk; the usual rules forgotten. And half a dozen friendly jerk-off sessions had, on the last night, led to an even friendlier blowjob session.

Half the time Puck almost doesn’t think that counts, because it was just once and when he did blow Kurt for the first time his five minutes of experience at 14 had hardly made him an expert; he’d still gagged.

Anyway, if he’d ever wanted to be more knowledgeable about that shit before Kurt it wasn’t like he couldn’t have done something about it. He’d only ever taken the moms up on it but it wasn’t like the cougars were the only adults who offered to supplement his pool cleaning earnings; he just didn’t think calling out _‘hey Anklegrabber! Your dad said he’d pay me $40 to blow him’_ on the football field would be a good idea.

Sometimes he’d wondered what it was about him that meant those couple of guys who’d given him discrete signs or carefully worded opportunities felt they could do it and not get punched. Puck was hardly a small guy, after all, even at 16. And what made them think he wanted that? What made them think it was ok to be so fucking skeezy?

He’d asked once, in another of the half drunk, late night phone conversations with Santana that have replaced their sext sessions now they’ve both been pussy and dick whipped into giving two shits about the person they’re going out with.

She’d snorted loudly and said _‘What makes it any more skeezy than the fact a load of 40 year old bitches passed you around like a party favour, you slut?’ ‘I’m a **stud** Lopez, **you’re** the slut. Get it right’ ‘Oh, that’s just a patriarchal double standard. Stud still means slut, Puckerman, it’s just a different spelling’ ‘What the fuck, Lopez? ‘Patriarchal double standard?’ Have you been hanging out with Berry again, you psycho bitch? Oh, and I’ll make sure that the four fifths of the football team you’ve fucked know about the spelling’_

…Yeah. Well, he’d never claimed their friendship was a healthy one, ok?

 _‘But seriously’_ he’d asked later, after their round of insults had descended into ‘your momma’ jokes _‘Why does it feel different?’_

 _‘Oh, I don’t know Puckerman. Maybe because it’s outside the norm?’_ and her usual sarcastic tone had taken on an extra bitter edge _‘Maybe because you get told you’re meant to want to fuck women and I get told I’m meant to want to fuck guys and we’re not supposed to complain when that happens? Maybe because when one thing’s a bit different about it you notice how fucking creepy it is that someone who’s 30 years older than you wants to fuck a teenager?’_

Puck doesn’t know if Santana’s thinking is quite kosher there; he still thinks she’s been hanging out too much with Berry. But he supposes she’s right in a way, it’s not that much different. He just didn’t like the idea that those guys had seen something… something vulnerable in him like that.

  
* * *

  
So the gang all hangs out together under the hot sun throughout the summer. And part of Puck still feels like he leaves grime on Kurt’s skin when he touches him and that there’s nothing new he can offer him and that he doesn’t _deserve_ to have this perfect thing that makes him happy.

He feels like he’s used up and second hand goods already and he’s not even 18 yet.

And feeling like that is really starting to _piss him off_.

Because he’s Noah fucking Puckerman. He is a hot, bisexual Jew with a banging body and a chiselled jawline and half this damn town would give their eye teeth to fuck him – don’t try to tell him they wouldn’t. Just look at his guns.

And yes, he’s a bit of an asshole, but he’s been doing his best to try and grow out of that, damn it. And he’s got proper friends that still want to hang with him even after all the crap he’s pulled and most of them are pretty clever so they must see something in him. And his Ma loves him (she must, the amount of shit she’s forgiven him for) and he knows his sister looks up to him no matter how many times she tells him to die in a fire. And most importantly of all, he’s got one of the hottest, sexiest guys in Lima on his arm and by his side (and in his bed) and if Kurt likes him then Puck must be doing _something_ right.

And there is _one_ thing he’s not done before. One ‘first time’ that he can still give to Kurt and despite the fact that he isn’t sure he _wants_ to and that he gets a churning feeling in his gut at the thought of it, that’s what he’s going to do.

Because even though he knows in his head that he’s worth something and that Kurt cares for him, in his heart and his gut he’s still got that ‘second hand’ feeling and Kurt Hummel? That boy does designer. He does top of the line, this season, hot off the runway. And Puck’s a little scared of what’s going to happen when Kurt realises he’s hanging around with someone that’s more ‘thrift store’ than ‘Dior’.

So. He’s going to do this.

He’s going to let Kurt fuck him.

  
* * *

  
Only… he’s not quite sure how to go about alerting Kurt to that.

He knows his boyfriend well enough to be aware that a blunt ‘You get to fuck me tonight’ or a jocular ‘Hey, Hummel? Want to take my ass-cherry?’ would _not_ go down well and would, in fact, probably lead to Puck not getting any of _any_ description for a while.

But he can’t think how else to put it. He needs something subtle and romantic and that’s a problem, because romance makes Puck feel uncomfortable and he tends to be an ‘in your face’ kind of guy as well.

By which he means his ability to pull off ‘subtle’ sucks sweaty dog balls.

This, it turns out, is something of a problem.

  
* * *

  
He does _try_.

They’re back at school now and so he spends as much of Monday as he can reminding Kurt about the awesomeness that is buttsex. He gropes his ass in the lunch line and backs him up against the lockers to whisper filthy things about _hot_ and _tight_ into his ear and sends him texts (in the middle of Kurt’s biology lesson, appropriately) about whether they’ve got enough lube stashed and if Kurt’s ever fancied trying out some of the flavoured kind and hey – if he has, what’s his favourite flavour? How about cherry? Does he like the idea of _cherry_?

Puck figures that’s pretty subtle.

His efforts get him a squeak and a blush and some texts back that read _‘omg shut up’_ and _‘no srsly, shut up. i hav 2 get up from this desk u no’_ and _‘i will c u 2nite puckerman’  
_  
And Puck had thought that was the problem sorted but when he pounded down the stairs to Kurt’s basement room that evening he found Kurt laid out on his bed, naked, with two fingers already worked into his own ass and any thoughts of his original plan went right out of his head.

An hour of satisfying and very athletic sex later he’d rolled onto his back and pulled Kurt toward him as the smaller boy moaned sleepily that _‘I think you broke me, you bastard’_ and Puck had vaguely tried to work up some annoyance that his Subtle-Fu had backfired but he kind of felt like his bones had been replaced with warm jello and he was so buzzed that he had to push his face into Kurt’s neck and kiss him to keep from giggling. So even though he didn’t get the result he was after he did get a pretty fucking awesome result and he couldn’t really be pissed.

He’ll just have to try again.

  
* * *

  
He sends the first of the links to Kurt’s iPhone at six the next morning, and then another every half hour on the hour until the end of the day. He thought about finding Kurt for a little bit of ass-grabbing during the breaks but decided to avoid his boyfriend and the texts buzzing his phone and let his words speak for him instead.

Or, you know, if not his words then the two dozen links he’d sent that led to either gay porn sites or pictures of lubed assholes (without the Goatse one because that shit just wasn’t a turn on).

He’s going for a less subtle message this time.

At five minutes past four he’s locked in the disabled bathroom on the first floor fucking Kurt up against the door and he’s starting to think his message has got translational issues.

  
* * *

  
Wednesday he leaves Kurt alone until Glee rehearsal and then leans over the back of Kurt’s seat and starts sing-humming ‘Back Door Man’ in his ear, changing the genders around to suit. He hasn’t got beyond the second verse before Kurt turns round and hisses to him “For heavens sake, Noah! It’s flattering that you can’t get enough of me but I’ve still got an imprint of the disabled toilet taps on my ass from yesterday and I’m starting to walk bowlegged, which isn’t a look that goes with Gucci jeans!”

Unfortunately he hisses this rather loudly in the few seconds between Mr Schue introducing the new theme and Rachel starting to talk everyone’s ear off about it, and the whole group learns more about their sex life than some of them wanted to, judging by the ill looks.

Artie says, in an appalled tone, “Wait. That was you guys who left those… stains there?” and Mike says “I think I just threw up in my mouth a little” softly to himself and Finn looks torn between wanted to upchuck as well and wanting to beat Puck down for soiling his sort-of-step brother and Tina looks interested.

Mr Schue says in a strangled voice “So guys! Speaking of bowlegged, how about we work on these Country & Western updates?” and then looks completely horrified by what he’s just said.

Puck finds out that he can still blush a bit.

  
* * *

  
Afterwards Kurt (who’d also blushed a fiery shade of red and either avoided Puck’s eye or glared at him all through rehearsal) rushed off as if he was being followed by the hounds of hell instead of just Mercedes and the girls. All the guys carefully avoided Puck’s eye as they sidled out.

Puck sighed and went to leave himself, only when he got to the door Santana was leaning on the wall outside.

She raised an eyebrow at him in the international sign for _‘WTF?’_ and he sighed again and shrugged. “Think I’m in the doghouse”

She rolled her eyes and said “Come on then, you douche. I’ve got a new bottle of tequila I nicked from my dad”

Santana, Puck thought, was an awesome, _awesome_ friend. Don’t let anyone tell you different.

  
* * *

  
Santana, Puck decided fuzzily, from where he was resting against the toilet, was a horrible, _horrible_ friend. The next time he thought different he promised to punch himself in the head. That would hurt less then the hangover he had this morning anyway.

A pounding on the door made him jerk his head up and then groan and clutch at it when the movement made it feel like he had spinning knives in his brain. Luckily he’d already thrown up his entire digestive tract so at least the motion didn’t make him sick again beyond a brief, reflective dry heave. Shit. Had San let him drink the whole bottle by himself?

His sister’s voice came from outside, accompanied by more banging. “ _Noaaaah!_ I have to get ready for school, damn it! Get out of the bathroom already”

School. Sweet Jewish Christ, it was Thursday, wasn’t it? Possibly. Fuck, he didn’t even remember getting home last night so it could be he’d blacked out a day and it was Friday now. Puck dragged himself upright and if the protests his head and stomach were making hadn’t made up his mind, the sight of himself in the bathroom mirror cast the deciding vote on whether to ditch school or not. He looked like something George Romero would cast in his next feature.

He gargled with some mouthwash and opened the door, immediately getting shoved to the side by Sara as she went past. He ignored her wail of “Oh, gross Noah! It smells of puke in here you pig!” and staggered back to his bedroom to collapse back on top of his sheets.

He made vague plans to kill either Santana or the guy who invented tequila or both, and slipped swiftly into sleep with a very faint, nagging feeling that he was forgetting something important.

  
* * *

  
When he woke up it was 10 hours later, his ‘hungover’ headache was now a ‘slept too much’ headache, he was hungry, he was desperately in need of a piss and he had over forty texts or voice messages waiting for him on his phone.

He didn’t find that last one out until he’d gone to the bathroom, chugged two Tylenol and a whole litre of water and made himself a grilled cheese sandwich which he wolfed down standing up by the stove. Then he’d gotten a shower and wandered back to his bedroom and nearly choked when he’d casually checked his phone. What the hell had happened?

Scrolling through the messages he saw that the first ten were from Santana, then around lunchtime he’d started to get them from Mercedes, Tina, Quinn and Finn (mostly Aretha and Finn actually). He had one each from Mike, Matt and Artie, two from Rachel that were probably her complaining about how whatever everyone was so worked up by was effecting her and one from Brittany that he suspected was from Santana using her girlfriend’s phone because the _‘you douche, call back’_ header was spelled correctly.

There was also precisely zero messages from Kurt, which gave Puck a very, very bad feeling.

Ignoring the five texts from Santana that all said _‘CALL ME 1ST!!!’_ he hit number one on his speed dial and waiting anxiously as the phone rang. And rang, and rang, and rang – until the call was abruptly stopped.

Puck took the phone away from his ear and looked at it incredulously. Did Kurt just _cut him off?_ That must be a mistake, surely. He hit one again. And again, three rings and then the call stopped. So he tried again. And again.

The last time it barely got past one ring before cutting out. Before he could try again his phone beeped to let him know he had another text and when he checked he saw it was from Kurt. He opened it.

 _‘I do not want to speak to you at this moment in time, Puck. If you ring again I’ll put your number on reject’_

The prissily correct spelling told Puck how coldly angry Kurt was even without the text’s content and the use of his nickname, and he’s got no doubt that if he tried again his boyfriend would do exactly what he threatened to. He very carefully moved his finger off the number one on his keypad and tried not to notice that his hand is trembling.

What the everloving _fuck_ did he do last night?

  
* * *

  
So he does what he maybe should have done in the first place and rings Santana. She answers on the second ring and the first words out of her mouth are “Oh, you have fucked up sooo badly, Puckerman”

It could be just an extension of their usual teasing but there’s a worried edge to her jeering tone that tells Puck yes – he really, really has. He asks tightly “What the fuck did I do, San?”

She drops the mockery immediately and that just winds the knot in Puck’s stomach up tighter. “Actually, I don’t know. I went down to the kitchen to get snacks and when I came back up you were on the phone to Hummel. I tried to grab it off you but the damage was kinda done by then”

Puck swallowed hard “What did I say”

She sighed “Didn’t hear all of it, of course. But when I walked in you were saying _‘and if you weren’t such a fucking girl you’d man up and take it, princess’_ ” she paused then added reluctantly “Which doesn’t sound that much worse than your usual, and I’m editing out the slurring, but you sounded really fucking vicious, Puck. And Hummel looked like someone had pissed on his Prada all day at school.”

“He’s not taking my calls”

“Ah”

They’re quiet for a few moments, Puck pretending he’s not struggling to control his breathing and Santana pretending she’s not sending waves of sympathy down the line. Eventually Puck asks in a tight voice “Did I happen to mention afterward what in particular I was putting my foot in my mouth over?”

He got another sigh. “No. I think the tequila really hit you after that – you went into ‘deep brood’ mode and didn’t say a lot. You _were_ trying to talk to me about something before that though”

“What?”

“I’ve got no fucking clue! You were skipping about all over the place – you kept talking about Britt’s pool party and rambling on and on about your current anal sex obsession, which – thank you for that by the way; it didn’t gross me out at _all_ to have to picture you and Hummel going at it”

Puck says “You love it, bitch” but it’s purely automatic because his mind is whirring and oh shit, oh fuck. He thinks he knows what he said to Kurt, or, if not the exact words then at least the general topic of conversation and he’s got a feeling that what with the slight frustration of his plans so far not working and the fact that he’d had a large amount of Mr José Cuervo’s finest in him his decision to inform Kurt of potential Puck-ass-fucking opportunities might just have shot straight past ‘subtle’ at 90 miles an hour; giving the finger and mooning it as it went past. Puck is perfectly aware that if there’s a way to make an offer sound horribly offensive then that’s the way his drunk side will phrase it.

Just, oh please, oh holy Jehovah – don’t let him have mentioned the rest of the gay shit he did before he started going out with Kurt.

Santana’s sharp voice in his ear brings him back to the present. “Well, you moron – given you just said that out loud to me, what are the chances you didn’t say it last night to Hummel when you were drunk?”

Puck dragged a hand over his eyes and groaned. Fuck.

  
* * *

  
The next day ended up going onto Puck’s list of ‘worst days ever’.

And given that list included the day his dad walked out, the day his grandma died, the day he had to say goodbye to Beth and the day he tries not to think about too much when he was kinda-raped by his sister’s babysitter when he was 12 he felt that said something about what a cluster fuck the whole thing was.

And at least with the other days on the list some small part of him had known at the time that that day was the peak of the shitiness and even if he had more of the same to look forward to, it wasn’t going to get any worse. But after a night of no sleep Puck had started the day out feeling like he had a tight band around his chest and by the end of it he was feeling like his heart had been ass-raped dry with no reach-around.

And he didn’t think this situation had reached its defcon-oh-fuck limits quite yet. He was pretty damn sure that things could – and probably _would_ – get worse.

Because Kurt hadn’t spoken one word to him or looked at him all day. Because when Puck had tried in desperation to text him at the first break he’d got back a clipped _‘I told you’_ and then the next text had bounced back as rejected.

Because Kurt had been surrounded by a bodyguard of their friends all day that had made sure Puck couldn’t even get near him to try and explain and apologise – hell, beg if he had to.

Mercedes had nearly pushed him over when he moved toward Kurt in the corridor and told him he was _‘five seconds and a distracted teacher away from me cutting you, white boy, so **back** off!’_ – and shit, but with the venom in her voice he’d believed her. He’d had stares of death from Tina and Quinn as well and purse-mouthed disapproval from Rachel and he swore he’d got chips taken out of his shins when Artie ran his wheelchair into him. Matt and Mike were pretty much staying out of it but they were staying away from Puck as well and Finn had damn well _growled_ at him when he saw Puck at lunchtime.

Basically, all this added up to Puck sitting in his truck at the end of the day and realising that the horrible, gut-wrenching feeling that’d been growing in him all day was because he _knew_ with stone-cold fucking certainty that if he didn’t manage to sort out the stupid situation his stupid, fucking mouth had gotten him into soon then he was going to be minus a boyfriend next week. And that was going to fucking kill him.

Seriously. _Kill_ him.

And it wasn’t just that the whole Glee club and Mr Schue and even some of the less douchey football guys had made it perfectly clear that Kurt would be getting their friends in the divorce, so to speak. It wasn’t that he’d have to explain to his mom (who, after freaking out a bit at the start, quite liked Kurt) that he’d screwed up the most stable relationship he’d ever had, or tell Sara that the guy who gave her fashion tips and manicures wasn’t coming round anymore. It wasn’t even that he’d be losing a source of some pretty amazing sex.

It was that Kurt was such a big part of so much of his life now that Puck honestly didn’t know what he’d do if that was ripped away. Didn’t know how he’d function with that much of him missing.

It was that just the thought of having to do without Kurt; of going for even a day, never mind the rest of his fucking life without having Kurt smile at him… just the _thought_ of that made him feel like ice water had washed over him and flushed out his veins, his heart. Made him shiver with the shock of it and then he couldn’t stop and by the time Santana snapped open the passenger side door and slid into the cab of his truck Puck was shaking and as close as he’d ever been in his life to having a panic attack.

  
* * *

  
They didn’t do hugs or ‘comfort’.

The nearest him and Santana ever got to physical affection was when they used to fuck, or the painful punches San gave him every so often on his arm. But when she saw the state of him Santana didn’t hesitate before she scooted over to the middle of the cab and pulled Puck’s head down onto her shoulder.

He fisted his hands in the sides of her uniform and gasped into her neck – shuddering, wheezing breaths that weren’t sobs, they _weren’t_ damn it! – and she listened as he babbled about how everyone was going to hate him and how everything was going to be ruined and how he wouldn’t even have Glee anymore because he couldn’t take that away from Kurt so he’d have to stop going and how it didn’t even matter because he’d fucked up so, so badly and he wasn’t, Kurt wasn’t, he was going to… and he couldn’t, San, he _couldn’t!_ Oh god. Oh holy _shit_. Puck wouldn’t be able to stand it.

Puck can’t see Santana’s face because he’s got his buried in her shoulder, wetting her collar bone with what are _definitely not tears_ , but her arm is solid around his back, her hand steady as she strokes the fuzz of his hair, and her voice is the firmest thing he’s ever heard. It’s a promise; an absolute guarantee as she says “It’s going to be alright, Puck. I’m going to help you sort it”

And he starts to feel a tiny – a very, very tiny bit calmer. This is Santana, and if she says she’s going to sort it then even his own ability to royally fuck things up is going to get steamrollered into oblivion.

Because this is _Santana_ : Queen Bitch of the school, able to bring football players to their knees at twenty paces with the edge of her tongue or at one pace with the rim of her kneecap. She’s the scariest person he knows. Hells fucking Angels would shit a brick if they saw this woman coming.

And she’s got his back.

  
* * *

  
Puck will admit that even in the face of Santana’s usual ‘bow before me, worm’ awesomeness he did still have a bit of depressing doubt.

Because San may be Queen HBIC but Kurt’s the GQ motherfucking _Ice Princess_ when he wants to be and so stubborn sometimes that he may as well be a very pretty mule with longer eyelashes and Armani shoes.

But in the end Santana arranges things very neatly, through the simple method of exploiting her girlfriend.

Britt had been uncertain at first, twisting her fingers together and saying softly “Kurt’s my friend, San. I don’t like him feeling hurt” – and somehow, even after everyone else’s disapproval, that was a real kick in the gut.

Brittany… Brittany was just _nice_. Not the sharpest piece of chalk in the crayon box sometimes and a bit too happy to go along with Santana’s evil plots but she was sweet as sugar and… well, Puck didn’t know if innocent was the right word for someone who’d fucked around as much as Britt had, but she was. Sweet and innocent and _nice_ , and if even _she_ thought he was a shit who needed to stay away from Kurt…

But then Britt looked over at him and said “I don’t like that you’re all hurty as well, Puck” She frowned, all serious “This is really hard. Like math”

San said “Puck needs to talk to him, Britt. And he needs your help to do that”

Britt twirled a piece of her hair and looked at her feet. Shuffled them like a little kid and gazed out of the window. Cut her eyes back to Santana and looked up at her through her lashes. San stared back steadily and Britt sighed. “Ok. I’ll ring and ask him to come over for a makeover. He can’t say no to those” She frowned at both of them. “He’s going to be mad though”

  
* * *

  
Half an hour later and it seemed Britt knew Kurt well. Both about the fact he couldn’t say no to making someone over – he had arrived carrying an industrial sized makeup kit and wheeling a small piece of luggage presumably packed with more beauty paraphernalia – and about the fact that he was going to be mad.

He’d been smiling when he walked into the living room of Brittany’s house. A pale imitation of his usual bright one, but a smile at any rate. Then he’d spotted Puck standing nervously by the couch and the smile had slipped from his face like it had been melted off. His lips thinned as he turned away from Puck to look back at where Britt and Santana were standing, between him and the door, and he sneered slightly as he asked “Et tu, Brittany?”

Santana stepped forward and said very calmly “Look, just listen to the idiot for five minutes, Hummel. He’s been a stupid bastard but let him say sorry for it. Because he is” she looked over Kurt’s shoulder and met Puck’s eyes “And because I’m going to kick his ass if he doesn’t stop being a complete ‘tard and explain _properly_ ”

Puck grimaced because he’d totally heard the subtext of ‘that-means-everything-including-the-gay-stuff-and-why-you-were-freaking-out-Puckerman-you-douche’ in that last emphasised part and yes, Santana was more than able to slap him down like the hand of god if she had to. There was a reason he’d never told her about his fight club and that was because she’d have joined in, beaten them all bloody and been ruler of the club within a week.

Then Santana turned her evil eye on Kurt as she added “And you _listen_ properly, Hummel. Or you’re on the ass-kicking rota right behind him. We’ll be outside in the garden. Come on, Britt”

And then she was pushing the blonde out of the house, with Brittany asking “But what did I eat two of, San?” as the door closed behind them and Puck and Kurt were alone.

There was a very, very long silence.

Then silence.

Then, just to be sure, some more silence.

“So. **Is** there anything you wanted to say to me or did you plan to spend the evening cataloguing the design of the carpet?”

Kurt’s voice was cool but when Puck snapped his gaze up from where he had indeed been eyeballing the carpet he saw the other boy had his arms wrapped round himself; holding onto his own biceps so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. And suddenly Puck’s mouth was dry and there was something in his throat that he couldn’t seem to swallow past, certainly couldn’t speak past. Explaining and apologising was a great idea, except that it meant he had to talk.

As he stared mutely at Kurt he saw anger creep over his face and after another minute of silence Kurt spat out “Fine! You know what? Screw you, _Puck_ , keep your damn excuses!”

Then he whirled round to leave and Puck was moving before he knew it; grabbing hold of Kurt’s elbow and pulling him back, and the lump in his throat dissolved into words that poured out of him like a stream.

“No!! No, please, _please_ , Kurt – I’m sorry! I’m so god-damn sorry and I don’t even know what I’m sorry for, ‘cos I was so drunk I can’t remember what I said, so I’m sorry for that as well – sorry for being drunk and being an ass to you – but I’m just _shit_ at this! I’ve been trying to tell you something for weeks and I couldn’t fucking manage it and then I think I got frustrated and I’m _sorry_ , Kurt! _PLEASE!_ I wanted to tell you about… I mean, I wanted to ask…”

God! Even with verbal fucking diarrhea he can’t get this out! Puck slammed himself down onto the couch and _forced_ himself to carry on talking, even if it was with his head in his hands, half muffled.

“It’s just that you’re always the one getting fucked and I don’t mind that – fuck, I fucking love that! I love fucking you, but I know that… I just thought that you might want to… What I mean is that I wondered if you might want to…”

“Oh, shut up”

Kurt plunked himself down next to Puck on the couch, and that plus the fact that he just sounded mildly petulant got Puck beginning to feel that he might be able to come out of this ok. His legs started twitching with nerves and he clamped his hands down on his knees.

”You are **_so_** dysfunctional”

Kurt sounded pissy but almost fond there and that gave Puck enough courage to look up and he saw that while Kurt did still look royally hacked off there was also forgiveness in his eyes and maybe Puck hasn’t fucked this up beyond all recognition after all.

“So this is what your incoherent, stream of conscious over-share about all the gay experiences and offers you’d had was about last night? Had during the same period of time you were throwing me in dumpsters and calling me a fag, I might add”

Puck winced and nodded, shamefaced. Looked like Santana was right on the money about him spilling that then.

Kurt carried on “And you didn’t think to just, oh – I don’t know, _tell_ me that you wanted me to top?” he threw his hands up “Oh, who am I kidding! This is Noah ‘My Middle Name is Emotional Constipation’ Puckerman we’re talking about here! Of course you’re not going to admit that you want to be fucked – “

And Puck couldn’t help the tiny flinch he gave there and the panicked wish that Kurt wouldn’t notice barely had time to form in his mind before Kurt broke off and stared at him and oh shit, oh _crap_ – his boyfriend was far too intelligent for Puck’s own good at times but please don’t let this be one of them. Please don’t let him say –

“Except you don’t actually _want_ to be fucked, do you?”

Don’t let him say that.

Kurt was sitting so still. Like if he moved he’d shatter and indeed, when he spoke his voice was brittle and thin; like it could splinter at any moment “Tell me, Noah. At what point during our relationship did you form the opinion that I was the sort of person who wouldn’t mind if my partner was less than willing?”

He closed his eyes and breathed hard a couple of times and when he carried on his voice did break and crack as it rose to a shout at the end “I mean, what _exactly_ did I do that made you think I’d be happy to _RAPE_ you!!”

And apparently that was what was needed to get the emotional flood gates opened properly.

Because Puck heard that and the very next thing he knew he had Kurt’s arms in his hands and he was shaking him almost viciously, shouting back into his face “DON’T SAY THAT! Don’t you _EVER_ fucking say that, Kurt! You’d _never_ do that, _ever_ – and I know, ok? I know what it’s like to have someone do that and you would never EVER do that! If I didn’t trust you why the fuck do you think I’d even _consider_ letting you fuck me after I’d had that happen to me?!”

He was nearly wheezing now; heaving air into his lungs and in the face of Kurt’s wild, shocked expression it still wasn’t enough, still wasn’t getting rid of this black, acid stone in his chest that was preventing him from breathing clearly. So he carried on, words that he hardly even heard himself pouring out of him; telling Kurt about his dark room with just the shard of light from the hall light under the door to see by. About being pressed down onto the mattress and the harsh, herby smell clinging to her that he hadn’t known was pot till years after when he’d been passed a blunt at a party and nearly hurled at the heavy, reminiscent odour of the smoke. And about how he’d frozen. Been so scared that she’d had to put her mouth on him to get him even half hard and how his stupid, betraying body had in the end. How he’d been too frozen to say ‘no’ and that maybe, probably, it wouldn’t have made a difference, but god; he wishes he had – maybe then part of him wouldn’t feel like because he’d just laid there and let her it was his fault.

About how it felt to be young and small and helpless; to have something he’d imagined and dreamed about and nervously wanted _someday_ forced onto him _that day_ before he was ready for it.

About how the experience had smeared itself all over him, marked him ever since; an invisible mark that only some people – the wrong people – seemed to see. See and take advantage of. How he’d been damaged goods for people to chip more pieces off of ever since.

On and on. Thick dark poison that he hadn’t even known had been there, slowly building walls up around him; all of it dissolving and spilling out in stuttered words and half formed phrases that he was gasping out into Kurt’s chest now. Holding onto his shirt with white knuckled hands like it was the only thing keeping Puck afloat out of the flood.

And then it was quiet. Then Puck noticed that it had been quiet for a while. No words from him – just deep, gulping breaths – and no response from Kurt.

No verbal response, that is. Because Puck suddenly realised that Kurt was stroking his head, his neck, his back, and that he’d been doing so for a while – soft and gentle, like he was touching an injured animal. And now he was speaking as well, murmuring low; just as soft, just as gentle as his hands – a soothing litany of comfort.

“It’s ok, Noah. It’s ok. I’m here and I get it, I do. And don’t worry – don’t _worry_. It’s all going to be ok”

Puck sucked in air, trying to ease out the shudders in his breathing, and pressed in closer against Kurt’s chest. He listened to Kurt’s voice and tried to let himself believe what he was saying was true.

  
* * *

  
Puck wasn’t sure how long they sat like that. Long enough for his leg to go a little dead from leaning on it. Long enough for him to get mildly hypnotized by his own breathing; the rhythmic rise and fall of Kurt’s chest under his cheek, the slight rub of his hand on Puck’s back.

His mind felt slow, like someone stuffed cotton wool in his brain and at some level he’s thankful for it – doesn’t want to think too closely about the past couple of hours (or the past couple of days, in fact).

Finally Kurt gave a deep sigh and one last, firmer stroke down Puck’s spine before he said in a resolved tone “Right. You’re coming to my house tonight, Noah. I’ll call your mom and let her know you’re stopping over”

A soft, cool hand cupped Puck’s chin, gently forcing him to look up and meet solemn blue eyes. Kurt slipped his hand up to rest against Puck’s cheek, leaned in to kiss him feather light on the mouth and then rested their foreheads together. He said “Go on; go get in the Navigator. I’ll check with Brittany that it’s ok to leave your truck here because there’s no way I’m letting you drive anywhere”

And Puck would protest that he doesn’t need looking after, but he kinda still feels shaky after digging a tunnel up through the metric fuck-tonne of issues he’s apparently got and anyway, he just spent a good half hour wrapped around his boyfriend like the dude’s a teddy bear so he doesn’t have much credibility there. He’s tired. He just wants to lay down with Kurt and go to sleep for a week.

So he went out and climbed into the passenger seat of the Navigator. Closed his eyes and just tried not to think about anything in particular. He heard noise faintly through the thick, tinted glass; indistinct voices that must be Kurt talking to the girls.

Puck suddenly really couldn’t face the idea of talking to anyone else tonight, of having to bullshit his way to sounding vaguely normal. So he knew it was a limp-dick coward move but when he heard the scrape of movement in the gravel by the car he didn’t open his eyes and tried to pretend he’d fallen asleep and not react when the door opened by the side of him.

He knew it was her even before he heard Kurt say sharply “I think he’s asleep, Santana”. Could smell the perfume she always wore; something cool and crisp, with a spicy scent underneath. And he knew he wouldn’t have her fooled even though she answered out loud “Yeah, Kurt. I can see that”

Her scent got stronger and he could feel warmth as she leaned over him and – yeah, he was right – her voice whispered low by his ear “I know you’re not really asleep though, Puckerman”. Then he felt softness brush against his face and nearly opened his eyes in shock because had Santana – Santana ‘empathy will cost you and you failed my credit check’ Lopez – had she actually just _kissed his forehead_?

She whispered again, even softer “Be well, Puck. Call me if you need to” so, huh. Apparently she had kissed him. She’d been _sweet_. Puck wondered if the devil was enjoying his ice skate lessons.

The door clunked shut gently next to him.

  
* * *

  
Puck ‘woke up’ after Kurt pulled the 4WD out of Brittany’s drive and set off down the street. Though given the bland look Kurt threw him, along with the slightly raised eyebrow, Puck didn’t think he’d fooled his boyfriend about being asleep either.

They didn’t talk as they drove but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable and even though it was only ten minutes to the Hummel house Puck was close to nodding off for real by the time they got there and he stumbled a bit as he got out of the car.

It had completely slipped his mind that of course; the Hummel house contained Hudson’s now as well, because Finn and his mom lived there too. And Finn had been really spectacularly unhappy with Puck for upsetting Kurt, hadn’t he?

He remembered once he stepped inside and saw Finn looming in the door to the living room, looking pissed and dangerous as he moved forward, angling his body subtly to get in front of Kurt like a guard dog.

Puck thought _‘shit’_ , tiredly but what the hell. If he needed to take some lumps from Finn they might as well get it over with. He stepped forward himself out of the shadow of the doorway.

And Puck was still feeling completely hammered by all the emotional crap he’d been through tonight but he hadn’t realised till then that he must look it as well because Finn was scowling and he’d opened his mouth as he took another step, ready to say… something. But Puck never found out what because Finn met his eyes and then did a double take, his mouth still hanging open a little stupidly and a look of concern creeping into his eyes.

He shut his mouth and stared at Puck for a long, silent moment, frowning slightly, before he turned to Kurt and asked in a worried tone “Kurt? Are you… are **both** of you ok now?”

Kurt just nodded and said quietly “We’re ok, Finn. Noah’s staying tonight. We’ll see you in the morning, ok?” and then gently pulled on Puck’s arm to start him moving down toward Kurt’s room.

Puck managed a “See you later, bro” as he passed Finn. His voice sounded rough to his own ears, rusty like he hadn’t used it for a long time.

He could feel Finn’s eyes on them all the way to the basement stairs.

  
* * *

  
”Does Finn know?”

His brain still wasn’t quite running at speed and most of his attention was taken up with the appealing sight of the bed, so it took Puck a moment to get what he thought Kurt meant. “What, about the gay stuff? No, dude – I never told-“

“Not about that”

Kurt’s tone was flat and Puck thought, oh. And crap, he didn’t want… “No. Nobody knows about that. It… it’s ok, Kurt. It messed up my head a bit at the time but I’m not, like, permanently fucked up you know, Princess”

And that got Kurt wrinkling his nose at him and muttering _‘wouldn’t be so sure, you jerk’_ but he shut up about it which Puck counted as a result.

It was the only kind of result he got though. Because sure, he auto-pilot-leered at Kurt’s smooth chest a bit after they’d stripped down to their shorts (hey, he’d have to be _dead_ before the Puckasaurus didn’t take advantage of an opportunity to ogle), but Kurt said firmly “Bed. Just bed. We’re both tired and need to sleep. We’ll talk more later, ok?”

Puck didn’t even think about pushing it and was actually fairly glad ‘cos he was really starting to feel the comedown from the adrenaline now and was still pretty strung out and curling up with Kurt warm at his side and just crashing sounded fucking fantastic.

He started going under almost as soon as the light went out and they settled themselves down, and it was through the first creeping tendrils of dreams that he caught Kurt saying, soft and fierce at his back “If I ever meet that bitch I swear I will _kill_ her”

 

* * *

 

Puck ended up spending most of the weekend at Kurt’s.

Well, all of the weekend, actually. He called in to pick up some clean clothes but being around his mom made him itchy so he’d booked out of the house as quick as he could.

She wasn’t doing anything more than her usual mix of fussing and nagging but ripping the scab off all those festering emotions on Friday night had left Puck feeling kind of raw and thin-skinned. Like he needed to wait till he’d grown some more layers back before he was safe to be around other people.

He loved his mom like crazy, even if she _drove_ him crazy at times, but he still had the echoes of all those secrets he’d spilled hovering on his tongue and when his Ma frowned at him and started in with her _‘What’s the matter, Noah? I can tell when something’s up with you’_ it would have been all too easy to let them loose again. Ask her why, then: _‘why haven’t you seen it before?’_

‘Why didn’t you see it then?’

He didn’t want to do that to her. And he was clear headed enough now to realise he might end up doing it anyway, so he just mumbled something about _‘Nothing much. School’_ and left before his throat got too tight. Kurt’s house was easier to breathe in at the moment.

It was quieter too. Kurt’s dad and Finn’s mom were away on a trip somewhere so there wasn’t any adult presence peering over their shoulders or saying not to put feet on the coffee table when they were watching movies in the lounge or how they should be eating something healthier than pizza when they did. They didn’t need adults for that, of course, because Kurt did it for them instead. ( _“The domesticated, lesser-pepperonied pizza isn’t generally known for its high vitamin content, you two. At least have a bit of salad with it” “Its got onion, tomato and olives on it. Those are salad ingredients” “Not when they’re swimming in cheese grease they aren’t!” “Whatever, Princess”_ )

It wasn’t _that_ much quieter, of course. Not with three teenage boys who wanted to play video games and watch movies and sports and listen to music – often all at the same time. But no-one was fussing or pestering him. Kurt must have had a word with Finn on Saturday morning before Puck got up because other than one awkward, anxious look over breakfast his friend hadn’t bugged him about what had gone down between him and Kurt and seemed content to accept the fact that Kurt had forgiven him for whatever it was.

There was no-one asking him about his feelings or harassing him to _share_ them so he could do the usual man thing and go back to trying to ignore the fact he had any at all. Get away from Noah the scared little boy and back to being Puck. Relax back into his skin again.

  
* * *

  
If he could have gotten _Kurt_ to be relaxed around Puck’s skin the weekend would have been better though.

He wasn’t doing anything obvious. He wasn’t like, avoiding Puck or flinching away from him or anything. He was still happy to kiss Puck lightly and cuddle with him on the sofa when they were watching movies and he slept wrapped around Puck during the night but there was _something_ off and any move toward something more physical than a hug was subtly manoeuvred around and deflected. And Puck had to be honest that for half the weekend he hadn’t minded or even noticed, given that – though he hated to admit it – his emotions had still been churning a little inside, sorting themselves out, and he hadn’t really been feeling his sexy, Puckzilla self on Saturday.

But Sunday morning he’d woken up feeling lighter, more settled. Still like bits of his brain had been taken up, but like they’d been given a good clean and dust and then put back in a neater place.

He’d also woken up with a raging case of morning wood and no boyfriend in the bed to help him out with it. And the lack of suckage kind of sucked.

He tried to wait a while, just rubbing his dick lightly, to see if Kurt had just gone upstairs and might be coming back down to get back in bed with him. But his dick wasn’t very pleased at being told to ‘wait’ at that time of day – Puck was too used to rubbing a quick one out as part of his normal morning routine, like brushing his teeth – and after another fifteen minutes and no sign of Kurt he’d huffed slightly grumpily and gone off to re-introduce himself to his right hand in the shower.

When he finally went upstairs himself Finn was there in the kitchen with Kurt even though his bro was fine with the whole ‘dating his kind-of-little brother’ thing Puck couldn’t really complain out loud about not getting a wake up blowjob so all he could do was send Kurt a pouty ‘had to take care of _myself_ ’ look when Finn had his head down inhaling the French toast Kurt had made for them all.

A look Kurt completely ignored. Or maybe he didn’t see it – he was concentrating on the toast as well. It _was_ very good and Puck had noticed before that for a skinny guy Kurt could put away an amazing amount of food.

Puck decided that must be it and tucked into his own serving, and the second helpings that Kurt made as well, and he had a half formed plan in his head about suggesting he and Kurt could go back downstairs for some ‘music practice’ or something, but then Finn had mentioned the Xbox and Kurt had made a smirking remark about how he – the gay kicker – had _‘owned both of their asses at ‘Madden’ the last time they’d played’_ and, despite the odd shiver that phrasing gave him, Puck couldn’t let that stand and neither could Finn so they’d ended up sprawled out in the lounge until well after lunch, screaming at the tv and trying to put each other off with smack talk that would have made a whore blush.

Kurt ended up handing both of them their asses again, in the end.

And then (Puck wasn’t quite sure how it happened, whether it was Finn or Kurt that suggested it) for some reason Rachel got invited over and although he’d tensed a bit when she’d arrived – anticipating getting bawled out about the shit-storm on Friday – after Kurt whisked her away into the kitchen for _‘dinner preparations, you boys aren’t required. Play a round of Tekken and try to find your balls again’_ he’d obviously had a word with her or something because she was perfectly normal and friendly with him when they finally came back through. She didn’t even give him the horrible ‘sympathy eyes’ that he’d been half afraid of, so Kurt must have bullshitted and side-tracked her really well.

It ended up being a nice afternoon and evening, with all of them having fun watching cheesy, silly crap on SyFy while Kurt and Rachel occasionally popped in and out of the kitchen doing cooking type things and then they watched ‘Casino Royale’ (which Finn and Puck liked because, dude, guns and explosions and shit! And Kurt and Rachel liked because they could drool over that Craig guy) while eating home-made burgers and a truly random selection of side dishes. Rachel’s _tzimmes_ was actually better than Puck’s mom’s; which he was never, ever mentioning to either of them.

And then they watched some Japanese film that Kurt was raving about which, despite the fact that it had fucking subtitles AND musical numbers was also weirdly funny and ended up having zombies in it, which Puck liked. Zombies were always good.

Just as the end-titles were rolling Mr Hummel and Finn’s mom had pulled up in the drive and although Kurt’s dad had thrown Puck a couple of suspicious, narrow-eyed looks there hadn’t been any comment about him being there. But the lateness of the hour and the fact they all had school in the morning was soon being hinted at strongly, and before he knew it Puck was accepting a rather forceful offer of a lift home from Mr Hummel and he and Rachel were being driven away to be dropped off without him getting more than a chaste kiss goodnight from Kurt.

It was a bit frustrating not to have been able to touch his boyfriend much during the day (the phrase _‘re-connect’_ flitted through his head and Puck swore and promised himself to stop reading his mom’s Cosmo’s when he was on the john), and Puck had to jerk another one out before he could get to sleep but he’d gotten a simple _‘missing u xx’_ text from Kurt just as he was turning off the light and he told himself as he drifted off that everything was sorted now.

Kurt had forgiven him and everything was ok and that uneasy little niggle in the back of his mind about Kurt not taking the opportunity to get close to him could just go suck it.

  
* * *

  
And then it was Monday morning and they were back at school, and over the next couple of days that niggle grew in size till it was a fully fledged fucking problem as it slowly crept up on Puck that this was a case of : ‘Another week. Same fucked up shit’

Because Kurt was definitely avoiding him.

Not in any obvious way, Not anything that Puck could call him out on. And that same Monday had been mostly taken up with Kurt running interference for him with all the rest of their friends so Puck couldn’t really complain about that.

Not when it was obvious that Kurt had said _something_ to Mercedes and Quinn that meant that Puck wasn’t getting the third fucking degree from them and their acceptance of him was rippling out to the rest of their friends and that that, along with Finn and Rachel being ok with him again and Santana looking like she’d happily knife and then skin anyone who looked at him wrong, meant he wasn’t being treated like a pariah any more.

(And yes, he _does_ know what that fucking means, thank you. He wasn’t fucking stupid)

But not getting looked at like he was an outsider was poor fucking reward when Kurt was hardly looking at him at all.

And when he only gave Puck a squeeze of his hand and a peck on the cheek at lunch and otherwise didn’t touch him at all. And when, after school ends and Puck’s gone home (because he needs to catch up with his sister and reassure his mom he’s still alive) his texts to Kurt aren’t answered immediately but only after a half hour wait between each, and he damn well _knows_ Kurt keeps his iPhone on him like the freaking thing’s surgically attached.

Even the phone call he’d made that same evening there’d been something off. Kurt had been affection and seemed pleased to speak to him, but he sounded distracted and he cut the call after twenty minutes, claiming his dad was calling him. Maybe Puck was getting deaf in his old teenage, but he hadn’t been able to hear Burt at his end of the line.

Then on Tuesday he’d seen even less of Kurt, because they didn’t have Glee and they didn’t have any classes together, and when Puck had tracked him down at lunch break (and ok, maybe ‘track’ is the wrong word when Puck had cut his own second period class to wait outside Kurt’s art class and grab him when the bell went. ‘Stalk’ would probably be a better one) and tried to persuade him to spend some time with him in an empty classroom or a closet Kurt had given him a couple of warm, open-mouthed kisses but then said _‘Sorry, Noah – I’d love to but I’ve got to look up some details for a project that I’m hoping to start tomorrow’._

And Puck had thought Kurt did sound honestly regretful but that still left Puck… unsatisfied, and when he asked _‘Tonight then?’_ and an odd look had crossed Kurt’s face before he’d grimaced and replied _‘Can’t do that either – sorry! I’ve got to help my dad out at the garage with something and I don’t think we’re going to be back till late’_ … Well, that kind of left Puck feeling like he was sorry he’d gone cold turkey on the whole ‘being an asshole’ thing because randomly punching someone would feel _really_ good right now.

He spots Kurt’s car swinging back into the lot at the end of lunch from where he’s sat on the bleachers trying to convince himself he’s feeling calm and reasonable enough to go back to classes, so Kurt’s project research obviously took him off campus for lunch. And it’s weird, but for a moment Puck could have sworn he saw Santana ducking out of the passenger seat. But there’s no way those two would willingly do schoolwork together – they’re not at each others throats all the time but Puck’s pretty sure the only reason they haven’t organised a cage match between themselves for the title of ‘Head Bitch In Charge’ is because they think it would upset Puck.

Puck does go to his classes but he sits there glowering like he’s been set at low simmer and his neighbours start edging their desks away from him. Then when he gets home he snaps at his Ma and snarls viciously enough at Sara that she runs off to her room, which makes him feel so disgusted with himself that he goes back out to school and runs around the track field for hours until it’s getting dark and his legs are shaking and he has to bend over when he stops and breath deeply so he won’t throw up.

When he gets back his Ma accepts his apology so quickly and with such worried eyes that he feels even worse, and looking in at Sara’s door and seeing tearstains on her sleeping face is the final shit-covered cherry on top of the self-hatred ‘I’m a bastard’ cake he’s baking for himself.

He whispers from the doorway “I’m sorry, Sara. Don’t worry, _metukah_ , things will be better in the morning” but he’s pretty sure he’s lying.

  
* * *

  
Puck’s first lesson on Wednesdays is Chemistry and he lab-partners with Finn; which doesn’t pull up either of their grades but it means Finn can usually distract Puck when he’s tempted to jerry-rig the Bunsen burners into mini flamethrowers and Puck can stop Finn pouring acid onto himself because he’s still half asleep. The boy’s not at his best first thing.

But that’s good today. That means that when Puck casually mentions Kurt being out late the night before helping Burt he gets a tired frowny face and a blank _‘But Burt was in last night…’_ before his friend’s brain wakes up enough to understand what he’s just said.

When he does he quickly adds, all flustered _‘Or, or, or – maybe that was another night? Yes, that’s right. Kurt was out with his **dad** last night’_ but Finn’s always had a heart that’s as big as an Ohio corn field and a face that’s just as open. The guy couldn’t lie convincingly to a toddler if he had to. Also, the way that Finn stresses the ‘dad’ part of his babble (and repeats that bit. Twice) lets Puck knows that while Kurt wasn’t out with his dad last night he definitely _was_ out somewhere. And Puck would really like to know where.

And he wasn’t leaving this to fester. Wasn’t having it, couldn’t _handle_ it again right on the heels of last week. So when the bell goes for the end of lesson he’s out of his seat and out of the door before Finn can even blink, stalking through the corridors to get to the other side of the school and catch Kurt as he gets out of his class.

He’s got a weird, jumpy feeling right where his stomach meets his chest and a strange, metallic taste in his mouth like he just licked a battery and he’s not sure what look he has on his face – oddly enough he thinks he’s actually smiling – but whatever it is it has kids breaking and scattering out of his way like a shoal of fish fleeing a shark.

Kurt’s easy enough to spot in the class of kids spilling out into the corridor, even from behind. No one else at McKinley’s going to be wearing boots that end above the knee and a second-skin sweater that comes down far enough to meet them, and Puck can recognise that ass at a hundred yards anyway, so he smoothly moves up behind him and slings an arm over Kurt’s shoulder, saying “Hey there, babe – come with me a second” in a low voice and cutting him out from the herd and steering him down the right hand corridor without missing a step.

Kurt squeaked and nearly dropped his books in surprise, then thwapped Puck on the chest with the back of his hand. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, you ass! And I don’t have time to chat right now, Noah – I’ve got to get to history”

Puck carried on marching Kurt toward his planned destination and said a friendly manner through his teeth “Why don’t you cut and hang out with me instead?” He opens the door to the choir room, which he knew would be empty this period, and dragged Kurt in, closing the door with a bit of a bang behind them. He gives Kurt a tight smile when he turns round and adds “We can make out”

Kurt looks exasperated and says “I **can’t** cut class today! Mr Norton’s giving us a pop quiz and he’ll be pissed if I don’t show”. He goes to leave but Puck moves between him and the door, which made Kurt look surprised and then put a hand on one hip and say, annoyed “ _Noah…_ ”

“Cut and make out with me”

“I’ve just _told_ you! I have history and-“

Puck cuts Kurt off. “I don’t care”

And he doesn’t. Doesn’t care and a small part of him doesn’t even believe Kurt about the test, because Kurt’s almost _but not quite_ meeting his eyes – his keep darting over Puck’s shoulder to the door instead – and when Puck takes a step forward Kurt moves one back and that’s really about it. Puck’s not even trying to smile anymore. “Why won’t you make out with me?”

“ _Noah…_ ”

But Puck won’t let Kurt finish, because he’s got more questions “Really, why? And why have you been avoiding me? And why won’t you _touch_ me for longer than five damn seconds, huh?”

Kurt flushed guiltily and Puck tried to swallow past the lump that had turned back up in his throat all of a sudden. Kurt glanced up at his face and stepped forward at last, put a hand out toward Puck’s arm but then hesitated – hand just hanging there, looking uncertain and like he thought Puck was going to bolt or something and that. Was. IT!

“I’m not a fucking chick, ok!!”

It came out in a shout and Puck found he was breathing almost as hard as he had after his run last night; his hands tight fists by his side.

“I’m not some delicate fucking flower and I don’t need handling with kid gloves. I’m not **broken** , Kurt” he spat that out “But if that’s it, if you…” that lump in his throat was getting hard to talk past now, scraping and roughening his voice as he forced it out, stumbling slightly over the words “If you d-don’t want to touch me anymore, if you think I’m dirty now or, or not good enough for you or something then fuck you, you bastard! You should just fucking **say** so! Go on – say it! Say I’m not _perfect_ like you. Say I’m too _soiled_ for you to put your hands on!”

Kurt’s flush had started to ebb away and by the end of Puck’s speech he was nearly chalk white. He just stood there _gaping_ at Puck, completely frozen and all of a sudden Puck just lost all his energy. He squeezed his eyes shut and shocked himself by how tired and beat down he sounded when he spoke again “And you’d be right, so… Just tell me, Kurt. Just say it. And I can go away and I won’t bother you again”

He still hadn’t opened his eyes. So he jumped with shock when a hard body hit him, sending them both crashing back into the wall. Kurt’s arms were like a vice around him – crushing him so close Puck’s ribs actually hurt – and his voice was a panicked babble by Puck’s ear. “ _Ohmygod_ , I’m sorry, Noah! I’m sorry – I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t think and I wasn’t, I _wasn’t_ avoiding you or anything! Well, I was – but not for the reason you thought!”

He pulled back and grabbed onto Puck’s arms, face still very white but his eyes blazing out like blue fire. Puck’s guns were going to have fingertip shaped bruises on them, he could tell. “And don’t you **ever** talk about yourself like that again! Like you’re worth less than me or, or like there’s something wrong with you! Don’t you **ever**. You’re beautiful and amazing and I’m _lucky_ to be going out with you and I want to touch you all the _time_ , so just **don’t**!”

And then he both underlined and undermined his point in the best possible way for Puck by hissing “My god, you’re a _moron_!” and grabbing hold of the back of Puck’s neck and pulling him down for a harsh, bruising kiss.

That led to more: frantic kisses tinged with desperation on both sides, and grabbing, scrabbling hands – both of them needing to touch as much of the other as they could; Puck almost lifting Kurt off the ground by being so fervent about pulling him closer. His ears were ringing and all he could hear was the rush of his own breath, the rapid thrum of his pulse.

Then Kurt gave an odd, hiccupping sob into Puck’s mouth that brought him back to himself a little and he gradually realised that Kurt was murmuring _‘Noah, Noah, Noah’_ over and over again when he could, when Puck left his mouth for long enough to let him, and he was running his hands up and down Puck’s back like he was trying to sooth him.

Puck forced himself to slow down and gentle his hands and his mouth, even though he didn’t want to, even though he wanted to crawl in as close as he could get to Kurt and never stop touching him. But he slowed it down, let his kisses soften, let himself loosen up and let Kurt relax against him.

Because it was ok. He still wasn’t sure what had been going on and they were going to have to fucking _talk_ about it **again** , damn it, but it was ok. Kurt had called him a moron and he was touching Puck again and it was going to be ok.

  
* * *

  
It still took him several more minutes to calm down properly but he did in the end and eventually they ended up moving over to sit down on the risers. Just being quiet for a moment or two, with Kurt cuddled up close between Puck’s legs and held tight and warm in his arms.

Puck pressed his face into Kurt’s neck and took one deep breath more of the clean, spicy scent of his cologne and then pulled back to give them both a bit of space. He met Kurt’s searching look and gave him a small but genuine smile which grew into something bigger and more relaxed at the look of fierce relief that washed over Kurt’s face.

Ok, talking time again, he supposed. Time to face the music and see if he could hold the tune this time. He asked softly “So… why **were** you avoiding me then? And where were you last night? ‘Cos Finn made it perfectly clear you weren’t with your dad”

All of a sudden Kurt looked shifty. Shifty and a little embarrassed. His cheeks pinked up a bit again and he cleared his throat “Well. Um. I was… sort of planning something? And I knew I had to go out of town to buy some… stuff for the plan and I was going to – well, let you know about the plan tonight and I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret from you if I saw you before then so…”

Puck cut into what was beginning to be a babble. “So you avoided me”

Kurt nodded miserably “Yes. I’m sorry. Although I feel I should point out that I **did** actually have a pop quiz today”

Puck said ‘sorry’ absently but now he was puzzling curiously over something. “Why didn’t you think you could keep it secret?”

Kurt went even redder and he said in a slightly strangled voice “Because when it comes to this sort of thing I knew you’d ferret it out in five seconds. It’s like your superpower”

Puck thought. Puckzilla superpower. Well, that could only be… “It’s about sex, isn’t it?”

“See folks!” Kurt swept a hand up and down like he was presenting Puck to an invisible audience “And that wasn’t even five seconds!”

Puck let a slow, wicked grin build up on his face. What was Kurt planning then? And what had he been buying? Puck asked him. “So what was it you were buying that you had to go out of town for? And what’s this plan that’s got you turning red as a tomato?” he leaned in and breathed into Kurt’s ear “Is it _dirty_? Tell me its _diiiirty…_ ”

Kurt whacked him on the arm and said “Ass!” and he was so incredibly red now that Puck had to grab another kiss because it was so cute when Kurt got embarrassed. That led to them getting distracted for a few more minutes until Puck reluctantly pulled away and then scooted down and re-arranged them so that Kurt was snuggled back against his chest. Maybe if he didn’t have to watch Puck leer at him Kurt would be able to explain (possibly Puck could just not leer but, yeah – not gonna happen in this lifetime).

“So. Your plan?”

“You’re sure you can’t just wait and I’ll tell you tonight…?”

The way Kurt trailed off acknowledged what a faint hope that was so Puck just gave him a squeeze and said “Give”

He felt Kurt’s ribs expand as he took a long, deep breath and noticed his boyfriend’s voice was even higher than usual when he spoke. “Ok. Well. Um.” Another deep breath and then Kurt said, stammering a bit “Well, I thought about what, er, what started off the argument last week? And, and I thought about it and decided that if… if you’re going to bottom for the first time then I should be a responsible top and make sure you’re comfortable with it and that you have the best first time possible. I really, really want that for you, Noah.”

And ok – that? Puck hadn’t been expecting _that_ and his arms loosened a little around Kurt from shock. But Kurt wasn’t anywhere near finished.

“So I did some research online into, ah, into how to do that and, um, some… other research and I went on out to Van Buen because there’s a large store there that’s part of a chain that sells, um… stuff that there’s no way I was ordering online and having delivered to the house, or showing up on my credit card statement for that matter, and I got some books and, and _somelubeandsomecondomsandsometoys_ ”

Puck blinked as he worked that last, rushed piece of gobbledygook out.

…ok then. Well. That was… interesting. And… toys? Puck gulped. He was not made at all nervous by that.

“Well that sounds… like an interesting plan” His voice was completely casual. Not worried at all. No problem. “Err. Where did you hear about this place?”

Kurt had relaxed a bit now that he’d got his secret out and settled back onto Puck more comfortably. He answered blithely “Oh, I took Santana to lunch on Monday because she’s the most, um, _experienced_ person I know apart from you and she gave me some advice and she told me about this ‘Lion’s Den’ place. She was really helpful actually – I was surprised”

…what?!

Oh shit. If Kurt had got advice on his plan from _Santana_ then screw what he’d said earlier – Puck was now officially **very** nervous!

  
* * *

  
It didn’t calm Puck’s nerves any that he couldn’t get any more details of ‘the plan’ out of Kurt, or get even a hint of what exactly he’d been talking to Santana about.

His boyfriend had been perfectly happy to spend the rest of the time till lunch making out in the choir room but had dug his heels in and shown his mule tendencies when Puck kept trying to tease information out of him.

And when Puck cornered Santana between classes in the afternoon all she’d said was “Just wait, Puck. Don’t you like surprises?”

But she’d said it so falsely sweet, and with such a look of evil glee in her eye that Puck ended up more worried than ever.

Kurt explained later that evening (after they’d gone back to Puck’s house to ‘do their homework together’ – which meant make out on Puck’s bed and do a little light grinding) that he hadn’t finished putting the finer details together yet and that _‘Details are what make the difference between couture and off the rack, Noah, and do you really expect me to release anything in a less than designer manner?’_

Puck would have told him that he’d be happy with just a ‘slightly higher end retail’ experience but then Kurt had shut him up by shoving his hand down Puck’s jeans.

What the hell. Puck would put up and shut up if it made Kurt happy. And kept him doing that amazing twisty thing he did with his fingers just under the head of Puck’s dick.

He didn’t get to see Kurt the next night because Puck tried to take his sister to her soccer practice Thursday nights if he could. (Shut up. Cheering on the touchline while a bunch of 10 year old girls ran about does not make him any less of a badass. Sara is an _awesome_ left winger, ok?) But he did get to make out with him during lunch – to much rolling of eyes from Artie and Mike and to a complete lack of reaction from everyone else – and he got to pull him into an empty classroom for a top up making out in the ten minutes between classes in the afternoon.

And he gets a text from Kurt in the evening when he’s driving a triumphant Sara home that reads _‘fingers in my ass & jerking off / thinking of u’_ and almost makes him crash the damn truck.

Just for that (and because he really wants to) Puck texts back and makes Kurt meet him early at school the next morning, and they spend a half an hour in the back of Kurt’s Navigator that makes Puck very thankful for its tinted windows and which makes Mercedes throw him a sharp look when she sees them coming down the hall and make a pointed comment about her boy not usually being as less-than-perfectly put together as that.

Which had sent Kurt to the washroom mirrors in a panic with a hissed _‘Noah!’_ but fuck it; it had _totally_ been worth it.

He didn’t see Kurt that evening either. Which he’d been in two minds about but when he’d muttered something to Kurt at lunch about _‘Thinking of taking my Ma to temple tonight, ok?’_ his boyfriend had just given him a little smile and a soft _‘That’s good of you, Noah. I think that would be really nice for you both’_ so he’d relaxed about it.

It had actually been nice to go to temple. Been nice to see the pleased look on his Ma’s face when he suggested it and nice (in a squirmy, uncomfortable way) to see how her eyes welled up when he gave her the flowers he’d picked up on the way back from school. He’d enjoyed the prayers and hearing the rise and fall of Hebrew wash over him, and it had felt good, felt _right_ , to give quiet, private thanks for his life at the moment and he’d felt a kind of joy when he rose with everyone else at the end of the _Lekhah Dodi_ because – yes, _‘in happiness and jubilation’_. Yes.

His mom had been calm and kind for the rest of the night when they’d got home, and smiled at him when he let Sara cuddle up to him on the sofa without complaint. He’d kissed her goodnight before he went up to bed and felt more grown up than he had in a while.

They didn’t do the whole ‘love you’ thing is his family – never had – but he realised now that; however annoyed he might get at her nagging and fussing, and however angry he’s been at times that she hadn’t noticed things about his life that she should have, and which he could have used her help with, he’s never doubted in his heart that she loved him and Sara. And tonight that was more than enough.

  
* * *

  
His serene feeling was ruffled a bit when he got up to his room and saw he’d got a text from Kurt.

 _‘sleep well. miss u. plan starts 2morrow x’_

Someone should tell the butterflies suddenly threshing around in Puck’s stomach that that shit was prohibited on Shabbat.

 

* * *

  
So Kurt gave him the broad outline of ‘the plan’ when they met up the next day: still refusing to give him _details_ and telling him that _‘they’ll be a surprise’_ which had echoed Santana’s words too closely for comfort. Puck preferred to know what was coming with his surprises.

Though it appeared that what would be ‘coming’ in this surprise was Puck. In a great variety of surprising ways.

Because what came then was a whole _week_ of what Kurt described (with a blush) as _‘taking it slow and getting you used to ass play’_ and what Puck described as a week long campaign of torture as payback for past sins. Of course, he only described it like that secretly in his head because if he said it out loud there was the horrible possibility that Kurt might **stop**.

It was also a week of Puck discovering just how hard it was to concentrate and function normally when all of your blood was continually getting diverted from your brain to either your face or your dick.

Puck had never been so relentlessly hard or blushed so much in his life. Both from the same cause – remembering whatever it was Kurt had been doing to him the night before.

He got the first warning of how much trouble he was in on Monday morning, watching Kurt’s hands as he wrote an answer up on the board in math class; one set of long fingers delicately curled around the chalk, the other swooping around in eloquent, lazy circles as he ran through the workings of the calculation.

Puck knew his boyfriend didn’t even know he was doing it. But it didn’t matter if Kurt was calling attention to his hands deliberately or not, all Puck could do was look at those long, elegant fingers and think _‘I had those inside me yesterday’_ and then he had to duck his head to hide the flaring of his cheeks and hope like hell he didn’t get called up for the next question, otherwise walking was going to be a problem.

  
* * *

  
But back on Saturday Puck had woken up without the nerves from last night. He’d been feeling laid back and in control again because – hey! He was the Puckzilla: nothing fazed him, especially not sex.

So he’d had a leisurely shower and bounced into the kitchen to peck his mom on the cheek and grab some toast off Sara’s plate and then tease her while he ate it till she lost it and tried to pummel him in the stomach, which made him laugh and grab her and tickle her till she got hiccups. Then he said cheerfully that he was going over to Kurt’s and left his sister scowling and saying _‘I *hic* hate *hic* you, Noah!’_ and his mom handing her a glass of water and saying absentmindedly _‘Don’t be silly, of course you don’t. Now, I think you’re meant to drink from the side…’_

And Puck had been singing along happily with the Pantera song that come on the radio in his truck as he drove along and whistling as he jumped out and jogged up to the Hummel’s front door and when Kurt opened the door Puck had given into his sudden impulse and grabbed hold of him, bent him backwards in ‘romantic black and white movie’ style dip and done his level best to remove Kurt’s tonsils with his tongue.

He heard a _‘Dude, **please**! Can you not mack on my brother when I’m eating breakfast?’_ and a dry _‘Puckerman, you wanna let go of my son now?’_ but when he stopped and helped Kurt upright again Finn was trying to hide a smile behind his glass of juice and although Burt had his eyebrows raised there was a gleam of humour in his eyes. Carole didn’t even bother hiding her grin and gave him thumbs up from behind Burt’s back. And it didn’t matter what they thought anyway – not when he was having to hold onto Kurt’s elbow because he wasn’t quite steady yet, and when his eyes were a little glazed and his hair was all mussed up liked that.

Kurt raised a slightly trembling hand to smooth back his fringe and said with an attempt at archness “Well… _that_ was a hello and a half!” and Puck grinned and said “Yeah, I’m in a good mood this morning” adding out of the corner of his mouth as he passed Kurt “Wasn’t that part of the plan?”

He heard Kurt stumble behind him and was laughing to himself as he stepped forward to bump fists with Finn.

  
* * *

  
He wasn’t laughing quite so much later on when he was down in Kurt’s room. The tiniest fluttering of nerves had come back when Kurt locked the door behind them because _‘if my dad ever sees this stuff I will have a heart attack and die and then I’ll never get to star on Broadway and that’ll be a tragedy’_ and Puck’s stomach had actually given a bit of a lurch when Kurt said _‘here, I’ve hidden it all under my bed’_ and got down on the floor to pull a box out from under his Queen size, because _fuck_! That was a pretty fucking large box.

“Dude, did you like, buy out the whole store?!”

Kurt blinked up at him and asked “What?” and Puck really wished his boyfriend wasn’t on his knees in a suggestive position in front of what was presumably a whole box of sex stuff, because it was giving his dick ideas and his brain was still stuck in _‘that’s a REALLY big fucking box’_ mode.

“Did you get one of everything in the sex supermarket or something? That box is like, four foot long! What the fuck have you got in there?!”

And perhaps Kurt noticed the higher-than-usual note of Puck’s voice, or the way his eyes were probably showing more white than usual because he said “Hey, hey…” and got up to wrap his arms around him. “It’s ok, honestly. I didn’t get anything scary – don’t worry. I just thought I might as well stock up – it’s a large store and they had a huge selection of stuff like lube and I figured while I was there…”

He gave Puck a soft kiss and stepped back, then wrinkled his nose cutely “Besides, most of the space’s taken up with packaging. You know what it’s like – they put things in these bulky display packs that are harder to get into than Fort Knox” he sighed “You wouldn’t believe the trouble I had sneaking all of this stuff past my dad”

Puck blanched at the thought of what Burt Hummel would have done if he’d found his baby boy laden down with a metric tonne of shit from a sex store. And who (Puck) he’d do it to.

Suddenly, whatever was in the box didn’t seem as scary compared to that.

He took a surreptitious deep breath and asked casually “So, you gonna show me what’s in the magic box, Houdini?”

Kurt looked at him thoughtfully and said “Mmm… No, actually”

Before Puck could protest he waved a hand and said airily “Not just yet, anyway. A gradual reveal is always sexier than an immediate full frontal stripping and besides; some of them are surprises for later. But for right now…” he quickly bent and snuck something from the box, standing up again to wave a tube of lube and a little spray bottle at Puck and add with a grin “…speaking of stripping: take your pants off, sweetie – I’m going to suck your dick”

How could Puck say no to an offer like that?

He couldn’t, of course – it probably went against the unspoken teenage boy solidarity that when it was so hard to get laid, you didn’t turn down an offer to get off. Besides, he didn’t want to.

So he ended up lying down on Kurt’s bed (minus his shirt as well as his pants, with Kurt similarly un-attired), on his back with Kurt scooted down between his legs licking and sucking wet patterns onto Puck’s hipbones and with Puck’s dick starting to get very interested indeed in the proceedings. Kurt gave that a couple of fast little cat-laps as well and then very slowly and deliberately wrapped his lips around the head.

Puck was getting _completely_ into it now and the feel of Kurt’s hot mouth and the tiny catch of his teeth under the lip of the head made him groan deep in his chest – so loud that he almost didn’t hear the ‘snick’ as the cap of the lube was flicked open, but he did. And before he could properly process what that meant Kurt’s hand was between his legs and wet fingers were just _there_ on that bit of skin that separated his balls from his ass.

And Puck’s pulse gave a jump and he kinda wanted to say _‘Whoa, stop!’_ even though this was what he’d asked for and what there’d been so much trouble over. He didn’t say that, of course, because he wasn’t a pussy, but some panicked part of him wanted Kurt to notice and pull back and insist that they didn’t have to do this; that it was ok if they just stopped and Kurt never, ever went near Puck’s ass ever again.

But to his slight surprise Kurt didn’t say that. Sure, he noticed Puck was weirded out (the sucked in breath and the tense muscles were a clue he wasn’t going to miss, after all) but instead of being all _‘omg! I’ll stop’_ he’d just paused and pulled his mouth off – but with his hand _still there_ – and looked up and said, gently but firmly, “It’s ok, Noah. I’m only going to touch you tonight. Don’t worry, you’ll like it”, before lowering his head back down and sucking Puck’s cock back into his mouth.

And Puck had liked it. Had relaxed and enjoyed the way the firm press and rub of Kurt’s knuckles just behind his balls sent little twinges of extra pleasure up his dick and made him even harder, and the way Kurt’s slick finger lightly swirled around his ass at the same time his tongue was swirling around Puck’s cockhead.

It was just that the odd, twitchy, tickling sensation Kurt’s softly circling finger around his hole had given him made Puck feel a bit… unsettled afterward. Almost like there’d been something wrong with his orgasm.

It wasn’t that it had been unsatisfying – like the saying went; a blowjob’s like pizza, even when it’s not great, it’s still _pizza_ – and this blowjob had been pretty fucking spectacular because Kurt had been trying out one of the other things he’d gotten at the sex supermarket ( _‘Stop calling it that, Noah. Now I can only think of someone saying over a tannoy “Clean up on aisle four” accompanied by horrific mental images of why the cleaner’s needed!’_ ) – the little spray bottle which turned out to be for Kurt’s use; a numbing throat spray thing that meant he could get further down on Puck’s dick than he’d ever managed before. Puck had actually felt Kurt’s throat squeeze around the head of his cock when Kurt swallowed, and had as a result come so hard he thought for a moment he’d strained something.

So, no. Definitely not _unsatisfying_. Just… like there was something missing.

Like it would have been even better if Kurt **had** put his finger in Puck’s ass.

  
* * *

  
The next day – Sunday – Puck had gone round and spent most of the day helping Kurt and his dad finish off the ground level extension that was getting built onto the back of the Hummel house, with Finn also ‘helping’.

‘Help’ which mostly consisted of him getting told to carry things and hold things in place and fetch them sodas and being shouted out if he tried to touch or even breath near any of the tools because there had been an unspoken understanding between Puck, Kurt and Burt at the start that if any of them were to get out of this day alive and with the extension – hell, the house – still standing, then Finn should not be allowed to operate any machinery more complicated than a drinks tray.

They’d had a cook out dinner after they finished up for the day – the three of them gazing with pride at the extension as they ate – and then Kurt had insisted Puck shower before going home because _‘You’re too filthy to even be allowed into that wheeled collection of fast food wrappers and junk you call a truck’_ , and _‘Besides, sawdust coated plaster with accents of spackle is *such* a last year look and I’m not having people see my boyfriend looking like that’_ and Puck would have protested the slur against his baby (you did not diss a man’s vehicle after all) but Kurt had added that he could clean up in his bathroom downstairs and Puck knew what _that_ really meant.

So did Mr Hummel, judging by the narrow look he shot both of them but he didn’t say anything – just grunted agreement and called out _‘I think there’s some spare stuff of yours that Carole washed and put down in Kurt’s room, Puckerman’_ as Puck trailed after Kurt to his room.

Puck said “Thanks, sir” over his shoulder automatically and it wasn’t till he got to the bottom of the stairs that it hit him that; not only did he now apparently have ‘we are a couple’ type spare clothes at Kurt’s house but that Mr Hummel knew about it _and didn’t seem to mind_.

The sheer what-the-hell?-ness of that and the fact that Puck was trying to quiet the itty-bitty part of his brain that was insisting in a hysterical voice that this was just Burt lulling him into a false sense of security so that he can later murder Puck in his sleep distracted him for long enough that he’d stripped off and gotten into the shower before he remembered the whole thing about what ‘cleaning up’ in Kurt’s on-suite actually really meant.

Having a completely naked Kurt press up against his back just after he turns the water on is an effective reminder though.

A really _nice_ reminder as well. Because when Puck turns Kurt’s already wet from the spray; hair damping down and turning darker with water, a wicked little smile on his face as he presses up close to Puck and crowds him back up to the tile, rubbing against him deliberately as he reaches up to get the bottle of shower gel out of the caddy.

Puck groaned and grabbed for him, but only got a single teasing kiss before Kurt pulled away again to grab a sponge as well. Puck said “Hey!” with a pout but Kurt just scolded in a mocking way “Don’t ‘hey!’ me, mister. We’re here to get clean, remember?”

And Puck would point out that in that case they should get down and dirty first, ‘cos otherwise it’s wasted effort, but Kurt starts running the soaped up sponge over _him_ and that’s nice enough that Puck does the sensible thing and shuts the fuck up.

It’s good – the slick drag of the sponge over his chest and hips and thighs, Kurt cupping water in his other hand to pour over him and wash the suds off, his fingers lingering and chasing the run-off down Puck’s body. And then Kurt drops the sponge and slowly sinks to his knees, trailing his hands down Puck’s sides as he goes and looking up with a smirk that Puck swears his boyfriend stole from him once he’s kneeling down with his mouth hovering there in front of Puck’s very interested dick.

Kurt very deliberately wraps his hand round it and leans in to give the flushed, purple head a long, slow lick. Then Puck moans when Kurt sits back on his heels and licks his lips, a considering look on his face. The noise gets him that damn smirk again and Kurt says mock-soothingly _'Just checking that all the soap’s been washed off'_ but then – thank god – he stops teasing and leans forward again, sucks Puck’s cock back into his mouth, curls his tongue and runs it up and down the shaft as he moves his mouth back and forth, jerking Puck with one hand as well, squeezing nice and firm as he lets his teeth scrape just the tiniest right amount.

Puck arms are trembling now from pushing them so hard against the walls of the shower, using that as a way of keeping himself from grabbing hold of Kurt’s head and just fucking his face - partly because it’d be rude and inconsiderate and mainly because he knows Kurt would pitch an absolute bitch fit if he did and stop.

And, oh _fuuuck_ , Puck doesn’t want him to stop. Doesn’t want that mouth, tongue, lips leaving him, doesn’t want those hands off him – and when one of those hands trail down back behind his balls Puck’s breath hitches and he just widens his legs a bit and lets Kurt trace his wet fingers around his hole. And then Kurt presses in. Just one finger, just in a tiny bit as he lets Puck’s cock slip deeper into his mouth, out again and then in a bit more; working it in slow as he works on Puck’s cock and then just as slowly adds another and twists that in as well.

And it feels weird and a little strange and Puck can’t help clenching down a bit, which doesn’t make it feel any more normal but does make it feel hotter – like his asshole’s connected to his dick and the mirroring strokes of Kurt’s mouth and fingers are looping around each other and working him up higher; making his stomach jerk and his balls tighten up and then Kurt plunges his mouth _all_ the way down and pushes his fingers _all_ the way up and brushes up against something inside Puck that makes him throw his head back and whack it so hard on the tile he can almost blame the flashes of light behind his eyelids on that.

But he can’t blame it for the fact that his shout is nearly a scream, or the fact that he loses it so hard, so fast he doesn’t even have time to warn Kurt he’s coming, or the fact that once Kurt’s swallowed and pulled off and out of him, Puck’s legs kind of collapse and he ends up on his knees next to Kurt; the water beating down on both of them as he kisses and kisses Kurt, breathless and giddy, chasing the taste of himself into Kurt’s mouth and sucking on his tongue till he tastes like himself again.

He’d been right then.

That had been a LOT better with Kurt’s fingers up him.

  
* * *

  
So.

It was… interesting. This new little tidbit that Puck now had about his sexual makeup. The one that now had apparently turned just the sight of Kurt’s long fingers into a turn on by themselves. It had him feeling a bit weird.

And he felt like an idiot for feeling weird about it, because – god! It wasn’t like Puck didn’t know that _Kurt_ found fingers and other things (like Puck’s dick) up his ass pleasurable. It wasn’t like the dude had been faking it all these months, after all. Kurt was a good actor but he wasn’t _that_ good! (Also, there was no way anyone _ever_ had to fake it with Puck and he’s massively offended at his own brain for entertaining the idea even for a second)

He just… hadn’t expected to be so into it himself. That; while it was completely understandable that the sight of Kurt licking and sucking spilled drink off his fingers at lunch would get him so turned on that he had to go find himself a stall in a deserted bathroom to deal with the boner he now had, and that he would be imagining Kurt on his knees in front of him as he rubbed one out, the thing that brought him to a knee-weakening, eye-rolling, fucking _stall-door-splattering_ finish wasn’t the thought of Kurt wrapping his lips around Puck’s dick like he’d just done with his slushie-covered fingers, but instead the thought of Kurt reaching up and slipping those saliva wet fingers into Puck’s ass again.

So.

Yeah.

Apparently he had a thing.

And the thing that was really bothering him? Was the fact that he was _bothered_ about it! The fact that his instinctual response had been _‘this shit’s too gay’_.

Because son of a _bitch_ ; he’s been fucking Kurt for how long now? And holding his hand in the corridors and everyone at school fucking knows about it and so does his Ma and Kurt’s dad and all their friends and half the fucking town given that the reason he’d given to his pool-MILF’s for why he wouldn’t be providing the extras anymore was _‘I have a boyfriend now and he doesn’t share’_?

He’s done everything but take an ad out in the local paper to drive home the fact that he likes dick now so why the _fuck_ is he now panicking and feeling like he’s going to be – shit. He doesn’t know; less of a fucking _man_ or something because he likes it up him?

Turns out he’s got more issues than he even knew about. Great. Because he didn’t have enough of those already, did he?

But the great thing – and the _really_ great thing, not the sarcastic ‘great-full-fucking-stop’ thing – is that Puck knows Kurt’s going to help him deal with those issues. With the ‘got fucked up as a kid and dealt with it by fucking’ issues and with his ‘ _real_ men don’t like it in the ass’ issues. Particularly that last one. Kurt’s just going to blow that fucker out of the water – emphasis most definitely on the ‘blow’.

Because when he goes round to Kurt’s house that evening (and at some point Puck’s going to accept that Mr Hummel’s friendly nod when he opens the door to him and the casual _‘Kurt’s in his room – you know the way’_ is actually genuine and not part of some diabolical plan that ends up with him buried in a piece of wasteland somewhere) it seems like it’s only twenty seconds after he hits the bottom of the stairs and says _‘hi!’_ before his pants are off and he’s flat on his back in Kurt’s bed again.

Except this time; after they’ve got each other all hot and bothered with open-mouthed, sloppy, biting kisses and handsy groping, Kurt works his way with licks and kisses down Puck’s chest and he reaches his dick and he… kinda skips over it and instead leans his torso over the side of the bed to scrabble underneath it. Which kind of pissed Puck off because, what the fuck? Puckzilla jr wasn’t enough to hold his attention now?

But then Kurt pulled himself back up and he had… oh.

He had something in his hand. Something black and curved that looks, if you squint right, like a graffiti version of a man walking.

“Erm. What’s that?”

Puck tries to get all traces of apprehension out of his voice but he doesn’t think he succeeds. Kurt says matter of factly “It’s a vibrator. I want to try it out on you”

Oh-kaaay. Puck can… kinda cope with that. He says “I’ve, um. Only really seen one before ‘cos a couple of my – ah – pool clients had them. That looks a bit different”

He’s being diplomatic there. The two of the pool cougars that’d had them – or at least, the two who had let him _know_ they had them – had owned ones that basically looked like plastic dicks. This one looks like a piece of pop art or something.

Kurt looks at the thing in his hand thoughtfully “Yes, well – they did have an extremely _extensive_ selection to choose from but I picked this because it was one of the smallest and plainest one’s they had. I thought the huge black one was scarier than the last ‘Alien’ movie, frankly, and I didn’t think the glittery purple one set the right tone”

“Glittery purple?”

Kurt nodded “Yes. It lit up as well, and there was a bunny on the end.”

“What, in case the orgasm isn’t enough?” Puck asked in bemusement but Kurt just pursed his mouth a little and asked “Aren’t we getting a little off topic here?” so Puck dropped it, apart from forming a vague plan to get hold of one of the bunny ones to give to Brittany as a present (because she’d no doubt love it and it would annoy Santana and get the bitch back for going behind his back and talking about his sex life with Kurt).

And it turned out that no extra glittery bunnies were needed, because the vibe was an absolutely _incredible_ thing and Puck wants to know why they don’t tell you about these things in fucking health class or something, or advertise them 24/7 on tv because strange looking or not, once Kurt turns it on and brushes it down over Puck’s cock and his balls and the low buzzing sound gets translated into sensation against him? Holy. Fucking. God. It’s fucking amazing!!

Kurt’s not sucking him this time – instead he’s broken out one of the tubes of lube from the year’s supply or whatever he’s got stashed now and is giving Puck a nice, slow, slick handjob with just the right amount of grip and that fantastic twisty move he always uses; the other hand running the vibe over the head of Puck’s cock and over his balls and down behind them as well. And Puck’s having to fist his hands in the damn sheets and he’s making low whining noises through his gritted teeth because it feels so goddamn fucking good that he’s about ten seconds away from busting his nut already which would just be so fucking embarrassing.

But then Kurt takes the vibe down lower between his legs and hunches over him to suck Puck’s bottom lip into his mouth and it’s an awkward angle and the head of Puck’s cock is rubbing against Kurt’s stomach now as well and then Kurt pushes the tip of the vibe inside him and the rest of it’s still resting and buzzing behind his ball sack and Kurt bites down on his lip at the same time and that’s it. All she wrote, fat lady singing, and Puck comes hard enough that some of it splatters on their faces.

He’s actually wheezing. And his dick’s still twitching and leaking like it wants another round even though Puck kinda thinks he’s not getting it up again this week after that.

But then he opens his eyes and sees Kurt – all flushed and wide eyed and as Puck watches he flicks out his tongue to catch a drop of spunk at the corner of his mouth and then fucking _smirks_ at Puck when he sees him looking. And right, so that’s how he wants to play it? Puck grins dangerously at him and flips them both over suddenly so he’s back on top.

He grabs the vibe out of Kurt’s hand and smiles down at him, running his tongue over his teeth, and purrs in a low voice “Oh, baby. You’re gonna _love_ this…”

  
* * *

  
Kurt had loved it, and the vibe definitely went onto Puck’s list of ‘toys we will play with again’.

If he didn’t think it would lead to a ‘wow. _Awkward_ ’ moment it would have gone onto his list of ‘toys to tell my friends about’ as well. (Though he had a suspicion Tina might like hearing about it. That girl was always a bit too interested in the details of his and Kurt’s sex life. It was almost like she was writing stories about them or something)

In fact, he’d been kinda hoping that Kurt could bring it round that night for a second go but when Puck caught Kurt by the lockers at lunch and said _‘Hey, babe – my Ma and sister are out tonight. Fancy bringing last night’s fucktoy round and being **my** fucktoy for a few hours?’_ Kurt had disappointingly told him that not only would he not be bringing the vibe, but that he wouldn’t be round at all.

Puck had his arms wrapped round Kurt’s waist but from behind so he had to hook his chin over Kurt’s shoulder to give him the full power of his pouty lip sad face.

Kurt just rolled his eyes and carried on transferring stuff from his bag into his locker “Oh, don’t give me the kicked puppy look. I’ve got a plan, remember? And despite that _immensely_ romantic suggestion I’m going to stick to it”

Puck said grumpily “And this plan means abandoning me for the night? What, you going on another shopping trip or something?”

“Nope!” said Kurt cheerily “I plan to be in my bedroom all evening”

“Then I’ll come round to yours”

“No you won’t”

Kurt sounded just as cheerful and Puck started to frown because, what the hell? Before he could say anything Kurt slapped his locker shut and then, tugging Puck’s arms free so he could turn round, pulled one last thing out of his shoulder bag and handed it to Puck with a grin, saying “What _you’re_ going to be doing tonight is opening this and following the instructions inside”

Puck found himself holding a box wrapped with fancy paper. He shook it a little – not very heavy, nothing rattling around inside. Before he did anything else Kurt said very firmly “ _Don’t_ open it till eight o’clock tonight, Noah. There’s a reason for it. And” he added, fixing Puck with a stern look “I will know if you cheat on the time and open it before – you know I will – so don’t even try it”

So, because Kurt probably _would_ know if he opened it beforehand, Puck managed to contain his curiosity till that evening. He’d planned on just slobbing around – watching some tv or playing some Xbox – but the knowledge that the box was there in his bag was like an itch in his mind, not letting him settle, and he ended up vacuuming the living room, cleaning the kitchen and running laundry just to distract himself.

Luckily, before he started doing something really whacked like cleaning out the gutters or doing his homework, it was coming up to eight and he could grab the box from his bag and take it upstairs. He had a feeling that even with his mom and Sara out, he’d want the privacy of his room for this.

It looked like he was wrong at first though. Because when, a whole five seconds after the clock ticked past eight, he ripped the paper off and took off the lid of the box it’d wrapped up all he found was _another_ damn wrapped box. If this was a stupid single player version of pass the parcel or something he was going to be pissed…

But then he saw the wired ear bud tucked down the side of the inner box, and the piece of paper that said ‘READ ME NOW’. He opened it.

 _‘Thank you, Noah. I knew you’d be good and wait!_

And good boys get a treat, so phone me on my mobile and then you can open the other box and have yours.

Use the hands-free set in the box. You’re going to want **both** hands for this.

Oh, and you’re going to want to get naked too.

Kurt xx’

Puck raised an eyebrow and started grinning at that, but it didn’t take more than a minute to pull off his shirt and shuck his jeans off (it was a commando day so no boxers) and he went bare foot in the house anyway so that was all it took to be fully naked. Then he popped the phone bud into his ear, plugged the jack into his phone and speed dialled ‘one’.

Kurt answered before the second ring finished and Puck didn’t even let him get a word out. “So, I’m sitting here in my birthday suit and I’m really hoping there’s something in this next box that isn’t a whole load of progressively smaller boxes ending in a note that says ‘Ha-ha!’. Can I open it now and find out?”

Kurt sounded amused “Don’t worry; there is something in it – though that’s a good idea for another time. And yes, you can open…”

Puck was already ripping the paper off. Inside he found another lidded box which made him give a mock growl down the line at Kurt, who just laughed at him, and then when he opened the lid there was a mound of dark red tissue paper and when he pawed that aside there was…

What the fuck was that? It kinda looked like a wonky blackjack crossed with a knuckle duster. There was a bottle of what turned out to be warming lube as well so the blackjack thing was obviously intended to be used for sex but…

“…Ok. I’ve got nothing. What the fuck is this thing and what am I meant to do with it?”

His mouth went a bit dry at Kurt’s answer. “That is a prostate stimulator, Noah. And I’m going to talk you through exactly what you’re going to do with it”

Get himself off while Kurt talks dirty to him on the other end of the phone? Well, go on then – twist his arm.

Puck shoved the box and packaging off the bed out of the way and settled down, saying “Ok then, Mr Instructor – talk to me. What do I do first?”

Kurt said briskly “Lay down on your back…”

“Already doing that” Puck interrupted “Is this warming shit any good? Have you used it?” He squinted at the packaging.

“ **Noah** ”

Whoa. He didn’t know what it was, but something about the very firm way Kurt said that went straight to Puck’s dick and made it want to sit up and beg. He thought maybe he’d stop talking now.

After a beat Kurt said “I want you to lay on your back and put a pillow under your hips” he paused while Puck did that, then continued “Now, you don’t need anything but the lube right now – you’re going to use fingers on yourself first, so get them slicked up.” Another pause and then Kurt said, very low “Are you hard now, Noah? Are you hard, thinking about fingering yourself while I talk to you?”

And dear _god_. Where the hell had Kurt pulled this ‘phone sexline operator’ voice from? And why the hell was he asking such stupid fucking questions because of _course_ Puck was hard, with Kurt’s voice dripping into his ear like liquid, aural sex and two fingers ready to shove in his own ass!

But all he said in reply was “Yeah. I’m hard, Kurt” and if Kurt was in 1-800 mode for this call, Puck had apparently decided to go the Marilyn Monroe route because that came out in a _ridiculously_ breathy voice. Puck would have facepalmed if he didn’t have a hand full of lube.

Kurt didn’t make fun of him for it though, and just said “Good. Use some of the lube on your cock as well, get it nice and wet and give it a couple of strokes. It’s good, that stuff, isn’t it? The way it warms up, gets nice and hot. Is it getting you hot, Noah?”

The only response Kurt got for that was a groan, because yes – the lube was getting hot and it was feeling very pleasant against his cock but it wasn’t as hot as listening to Kurt _say_ that! Luckily he didn’t seem to expect any more as he carried on “Now let your legs fall apart, ok? Don’t stop stroking yourself but just reach down between your legs as well. Can you reach, Noah? Can you touch your hole for me?”

Puck could. It was a little bit of a stretch, and it was a good thing he had his hips tilted up on the pillow, but he could reach and he could touch. He told Kurt “ _Yeah…_ ”

(Still in that fucking breathy voice but the lube was warming up against his ass now as well, starting to send tingles through him, and Puck couldn’t spare the attention to give a fuck what he sounded like)

“You’re circling it already, aren’t you?” Kurt’s voice was getting a bit rougher now “Push your finger in, just one. Just push it in a little bit. It feels good, right? I bet it feels good, all tight and hot in there, feels good to push your finger in. Makes you want more”

And yes, god, yes – it did, so Puck let himself have more. Pushed a second finger in, all the way in one long stroke, the slight burn of it just adding to the warming sensation of the lube.

“Yes, that’s it. The second one, like that. Oh, Christ – I wish I could see you. I bet you look so fucking hot, Noah. So hot like that on your back, ass in the air, just _aching_ for it. Are you still stroking yourself, Noah? Are you still fisting that big, gorgeous cock of yours? You imagining I’m there? That I’ve got my hands on you, my fingers inside you – my mouth on you?”

Christ. Fucking Jesus fucking Christ, he was now! And that was just so fucking good. That was so fucking hot. Shit, he could feel his balls drawing up. That was…

“ **Stop** ”

Kurt’s voice had that firm tone again and Puck obeyed automatically, even when his nuts screamed at him for it. He realised he was panting harshly and whimpering a little.

“Back down a little, Noah” Kurt’s voice was soothing again “Don’t move. Just let yourself calm down a bit so you’re not so close”

It was working. Puck’s heart slowly stopped pounding quite so hard and he didn’t think he was going to come if he made one more move now.

“You want to take your fingers out for me now, Noah?” No, actually – he didn’t. He liked them where they were. But Kurt was carrying on and his voice was back into that husky purr “You want to take them out and get your present lubed up? Try that out?”

That got Puck whipping his fingers out of his ass pretty damn quick. He fumbled next to him for the toy he’d forgotten about and slicked it up with slightly shaky hands, nearly dropping it after because it’s so slippery until it hits him that the bits that made it look like a knuckleduster were actually for his fingers and he thought to use them.

“You all set there, Noah? You got it all lubed and ready, resting up against your hole?” Kurt was sounding a bit breathy now – quick little excited breaths that just wound Puck up tighter hearing them.

“Push it in there for me, baby. Real slow and gentle. You doing that? Does it feel good?”

Puck was and …yes. It kinda did. Different from his fingers, smoother but a bit wider so that he had to wait for a moment to get used to it.

“You pushing it in there, Noah? You going to rock that on into yourself? Fuck yourself with it?”

He was. He was pushing it in and it was feeling fucking fantastic again and it was a really good thing that Kurt didn’t seem to expect any answers from him because all Puck could do at the moment was moan.

“You push it in there deep for me, Noah. Fuck yourself with it. Is it hitting you right? Are you pushing it right in so it’s hitting you right inside? Fuck, I bet you’re leaking, aren’t you, baby? I bet your legs are starting to tremble it feels so good. You’re still touching your cock, aren’t you? Oh shit, Noah – stroke your cock for me and fuck yourself. God, you must look so amazing, I wish I could see you. _Christ_ but I want to see you. Want to see you fuck yourself and, and I want to suck you while you do. Want you to f-fuck yourself open for me, Noah – _oh, oh_ – fuck yourself open so that I, I… I can _ohfuck_ push my cock in you and –“

Puck didn’t hear how Kurt finished that, because the thought of that – of Kurt’s dick inside him instead of this bit of plastic – made him come; ass clenching around the toy and so fucking hard that his vision whited out for a moment. There’s a slight possibility he may have screamed.

When some of his brain cells started to come back online again he noticed that Kurt had stopped talking and was just breathing hard down the phone; panting like he’d been running sprints, so Puck thought he must have come too but he couldn’t remember it.

He was proved right when Kurt spoke again, his voice back to its usual higher tones, though he sounded a bit raspy like maybe he’d screamed too. “Jesus _Christ_ …”

Puck started to chuckle, feeling a bit high from his orgasm “No, Noah Puckerman – though we _are_ both Jewish. Easy mistake to make”

Kurt ignored him, saying in a shocked tone “Good _god_ … I’ve actually got come in my _hair_ now…”

That set Puck laughing properly, shaking with it as he jerked out “You, you have the strangest beauty rituals there, Princess!”

Then he cut off with a soft moan as the movement caused the toy to slip out of him, dragging over his prostate one last time. His ass felt kinda empty without it. He thought very briefly about cleaning up but decided a quick wipe with a t-shirt plucked off the floor would have to do because he’s too tired now to go shower. In fact, he thinks he needs to sleep soon and by the sound of the sudden yawn from the other end of the line, so does Kurt

He does need to make sure Kurt understands something before they call an end to the evening though. “We are definitely doing that again, ok?”

“God, yes!” and that note of fervour only usually appears in Kurt’s voice when he’s talking about Alexander McQueen so he must have enjoyed it.

“But” he adds firmly (‘But’? Where the hell was there a ‘but’ in what they just did? What the fuck could Kurt possibly be objecting to?) “Next time I’m either in the room with you or we’re setting up a webcam because it was bloody torture not being able to see what you looked like”

Oh. _That_ sort of ‘but’ – the kind that just makes the whole idea _even hotter_.

Puck can agree to that.

 

* * *

  
Puck honestly can’t help himself when he sees the surprise Kurt brings out for Wednesday night.

He nearly busts his gut laughing and he actually falls off the bed.

“W-w-what the _hell?!_ Oh my fucking god, Kurt! ‘My First Anal Beads’? _Seriously?!_ You bought something called _‘My First Anal Beads’_? Did they have a Toys-R-Us next to the sex store or something?”

Kurt was beginning to look annoyed and he started to say “While I admit the name’s unfortunate…” but Puck was already scrambling back onto the bed and grabbing the beads up “Oh, fuck me, they’ve actually got diamante sparkles on the fucking handle! You bought _baby blue_ anal beads with sparkles on them!! Did you get a Speak ‘N Spell sex book to go with them?”

Kurt snatched them back and said in a surprisingly low growl “No. But I did get ‘The Gay Karma Sutra’ and a couple of others, and the colour of the damn beads doesn’t matter when they’re going up your _ass_ , you ass!”

Then he gave Puck an unexpectedly strong shove that splayed him over onto his back and loomed over him to glare down and snap in that same low voice “So lay back and do what I say, Noah. Because I’m going to fuck you speechless”

Puck gulped. _Fuuuck_. Kurt was really fucking hot when he went all dominant like that – it was like his ‘firm’ voice last night and apparently Puck had a bit of a kink and how had he not known this before?

And then Kurt was getting the lube out, and working the beads into Puck one by careful one and they felt… different from fingers or the vibe or the ass probe thing – made him feel fuller but in a looser, shifting way and Puck couldn’t quite decide whether he liked it or not but his dick wasn’t in any doubt because it was hard and already leaking a little against his abs.

Kurt was getting a condom out too, and rolling it down onto Puck, and then swinging his legs over to straddle him and sinking down and then, _ohsweetgod_ , **then** Kurt was riding him like a fucking cowboy – sitting up straight with his hands on his own heels and using just the strength in his thigh muscles to raise himself up and slam back down again, over and over and Puck was bucking up like he was a mechanical fucking bull or something and all that was missing was Kurt wearing one of the hats they’d had for ‘Last Name’ to make this their very own ‘Brokeback Mountain: The Full On Porno Edition’ show.

And then, just when Puck was realising that he wasn’t going to last much longer and was trying to unclamp one of his hands from Kurt’s knees so that he could stroke Kurt’s cock and help bring him off first, Kurt had leaned backward – torso bowing in a way that got the light hitting the beads of sweat running down it and just added that extra edge of ‘graphic’ onto the pornographic already going on – and he reached down between Puck’s spread legs and…

Puck can only suppose that Kurt pulled the beads out of him. He was a bit too busy coming his brains out at the time to be sure.

To be honest, he only knew that Kurt had gotten off as well because when he eventually came back to consciousness there was come on his chest sticking Kurt (who seemed to have had his own mini-collapse) onto him.

And he’d have totally apologised for the whole teasing thing and admitted that Kurt was right, right, right, never-to-be-doubted-again but it appeared Kurt had also been right about that whole ‘fuck you speechless’ thing as well and by the time Puck had control of his vocal chords again they were drifting of to sleep anyway.

  
* * *

  
Some part of Puck was almost sure that Kurt’s plan was… well, not exactly going to _fail_ , because wow, he’d really hit the jackpot on every go so far, but Puck couldn’t honestly imagine that this shit was going to _keep_ getting better. Surely there was a peak that they’d hit at some point? (and he tried not to pay attention to that part of his brain that was insisting that, even if Kurt wanted to do it Missionary style, in the dark, no extras, and only on alternate Wednesday’s or days when the moon was full that’d still be an offer Puck would jump at with both hands because it was _Kurt_ )

But no – it seemed that there wasn’t a peak.

Because on Thursday; after a whole day of watching Kurt and the goddamn bastard _deliberately_ teasing him throughout the day with under-the-lashes looks in class and the swing in his hips as he sashayed down the fucking corridors and with him fucking _fellating_ his slushie straw at lunch and then, in Glee, with Kurt piping up that he’d got a song that he and a few of the girls had been working on and was it ok if they did it?

And then he fucking did ‘Talk Dirty To Me’. And Puck didn’t even see the moves that Mercedes, Quinn, Brittany and Santana were doing behind him, because Kurt was singing:  
 _‘You know that I can hardly wait  
Just to see you  
And I know you cannot wait  
Wait to see me too  
I gotta touch you’_

And he was singing it to Puck; like Puck was the only person he would want to wait for like that. Like Puck was the only person he’d ever want to _touch_ like that.

And he was singing:  
 _'Down the basement  
lock the cellar door  
And baby  
Talk dirty to me'_

And he was singing:  
 _'You know I call you  
I call you on the telephone  
I'm only hoping that you’re home  
So I can hear you  
When you say those words to me  
And whisper so softly  
I gotta hear you'_

And all Puck could think about was Kurt’s low, sexy voice in his ear as Puck got himself off with the present he’d gave him – the present that he’d fucking _gift wrapped_ and had Puck _carry around in his backpack_ all fucking day – and he’d looked into Kurt’s darkened eyes, the usual sky blue just a rim around the black of his pupil, and he’d known that was all Kurt was thinking of too.

Puck didn’t really take in the rest of the rehearsal. He was a bit too busy trying to hide the huge fucking boner he’d got from remembering Kurt’s phone sex voice.

In fact, he didn’t really take much in – _‘yeah, see you tomorrow guys’ ‘hi Mr Hummel, I’m just here to study with Kurt’_ – before he was back down in the basement with Kurt, locking that cellar door, yeah baby and…

And, oh god. And yeah – but he liked it and yeah, he knew that Kurt liked it too.

And he didn’t know why, but each time he had with Kurt, each little additional piece he saw in him just made Puck want extra. Like he couldn’t ever get his fill, like too much wouldn’t nearly be enough and would leave him crying out for more.

Like he’s so fucking hungry for Kurt all the time; wanting to touch him and kiss him or even just fucking _look_ at him – like the sight alone will be enough to take the edge off.

It hasn’t taken the edge off tonight though, even when Puck hasn’t really looked away from Kurt’s mouth, his ass, his eyes all day. He’s still grabbing at Kurt as soon as they hit the bedroom, pulling him closer, fucking _devouring_ those pretty pink lips that have been taunting him all day by just being there.

And Kurt’s kissing back, just as desperate, and moaning into Puck’s mouth and scrabbling to help get Puck’s clothes off and pulling his own off as well, and Puck loves it so much that he can reduce Lima’s very own fashion plate into someone who will throw his shirt down onto the floor without a thought.

Not as much as he loved being naked with him though and rolling around on the bed with him and rubbing up against him, and the sight of Kurt naked and tousled with his lips all kiss-swollen is one particular fashion plate that Puck plans to keep to himself and never let anyone else see.

Then Kurt was pushing at his shoulder and squirming out from under him and Puck doesn’t get a chance to say _‘hey!’_ because Kurt’s diving for the box under the bed again and he thought his dick couldn’t get much harder but it does now. Partly at the sight of Kurt’s gorgeous ass wiggling around as he searches for what he’s after but mostly because he’s learned very quickly that whatever comes out of the sex box is going to be a good thing.

So he’s a bit surprised and just a teensy bit disappointed when the only thing Kurt brings out is a bottle of lube. They can’t have used up the one in the bedside drawer yet, surely? What’s so special about this one?

And then he sees that there’s a picture of fruit on the label and the words ‘sweet pomegranate’ and ok – flavoured b-jays all round then?

Nope. Kurt’s looking at him with his cheeks all flushed and his eyes wide and dark again and he’s saying softly “Turn over, Noah. Lay on your stomach”.

And _that_ makes Puck swallow hard because whoa, shit. They’re doing this now? He gives Kurt a slightly shaky grin and asks “You gonna fuck me then, Princess?”

But Kurt shakes his head and leans over to give him a long, slow kiss and then pulls back an inch to whisper into his mouth “Not tonight. You’re going to like this, though. So turn over”

So Puck does. Pillows his head on his arms and takes a couple of deep breaths, because he trusts Kurt and he believes him when he says this’ll be good. And he’s still hard so his dick obviously believes him too. He’s hard enough that he can’t help rubbing against the sheets a bit as Kurt settles between his spread legs, which gets him a small, stinging slap and a bitchy “ _Noah_! Mind my thread count!”

Puck looks over his shoulder and, raising an eyebrow says as a joke “I didn’t know we were playing _those_ sort of games, baby – you wanna turn me over your knee?”

Kurt actually looked thoughtful for a moment though, before saying “Maybe another time. Now turn round, I can’t do this with you watching!”

And he wanted to freak a bit over _‘another time’_ because he hadn’t really meant it but damn, his dick had jumped when Kurt said it and what the fuck was it with all these new kinks cropping up?

And he wanted to ask _‘do **what** with me watching?’_ but he shut up and put his face back down on his arms instead – and then hissed as he felt cold lube trickle right onto his crack. “ _Fuck_ , Kurt! Give me a bit of warning!”

Kurt murmured “Sorry” softly and then Puck felt Kurt’s fingers at his ass as well, spreading the lube out and warming it up a bit. He felt one fingertip slowly circle his hole and that was nice and all – very nice, and it had perked his dick back up to full wood after the shock of the cold – but it was hardly that different from what they’d been doing for the past few days. He didn’t see why Kurt was embarrassed about…

 _ohsweetfuckingGOD!!  
_  
Son of a _bitch!!_ That wasn’t Kurt’s finger; that was his fucking _tongue!_ Kurt had his _tongue_ in Puck’s _ASS_!!!

And, oh – holy Jehovah in heaven – it felt absolutely. Fucking. AMAZING!

And it was all warm and wet and everything was all slick from the lube as well and Kurt was swirling his tongue around Puck’s hole like he was licking an ice cream or something and giving these long, looonng licks with the flat of his tongue and now he was – _ohshitshitfuckingfuck_ – he was _pushing the point of the tip inside!_

Kurt’s tongue was actually _inside_ Puck’s ass! And Puck’s pretty sure he’d given a yelp like a dog getting its tail stood on at the shock of the first feel of it, but now all the noise he’s making is one long series of groans into his own forearms because he has honestly never felt anything quite this good before and now Kurt’s got his hands on Puck’s ass-cheeks holding him open even further and just _tongue-fucking_ his hole and this – this right here is going straight to the top of Puck’s list of ‘stuff about The Gay that someone should have told him about so he could have been doing this shit _years_ ago’

But it was only one tiny part of his brain that was thinking that because the rest of it was caught in a loop of _yesyespleaseyesmoremoreyesPLEASE_ and he was pushing himself back into Kurt’s face now – couldn’t help it but from the muffled encouraging noises Kurt was making he didn’t mind and _fuck yes!_ – please let him make those again because the vibrations were fucking amazing and it was so fucking good and _fuckfuckfuckyes_ , Kurt was putting his fingers in Puck’s ass now and he was licking and sucking and tonguing all around them and scissoring them inside him and then he had his mouth right above his fingers, lips and tongue right against Puck’s hole and then he fucking _hummed_.

And that was… that was just too much. Far, far too much and much too good and Puck hadn’t even put a hand on his dick yet but he was coming – coming in hard pulses that were almost painful they felt so good, right against Kurt’s fussy, high thread count sheets. With a hoarse cry that only stayed in his throat because Puck had his mouth and teeth clamped over his own arm.

Afterward; after Kurt had come as well – rubbing himself off against Puck’s ass and muttering _‘oh Christ, oh Christ – I fucking **loved** doing that to you. The **noises** you were making…’_ into his shoulder – and after they’d cleaned up and changed the sheets and started to fall asleep, Puck found he’d bit his arm so hard he’d actually broken the skin.

  
* * *

  
And of course then, for the last day of the school week, Puck not only got to blush at the sight of Kurt’s hands and watch his fingers and think _‘I’ve had those inside me’_ , and listen to him talk and sing and remember that same sweet voice murmuring filthy things to Puck down the phone, AND do his usual watching of Kurt’s ass and the sexy wiggle he had in his walk but NOW he got to look at Kurt’s mouth and watch his tongue flicker out to wet his lips and all he could think about was what that mouth and tongue had been doing to his ass the night before.

All of which meant that by the end of the day Puck was just a tiny bit worked up. And very glad he’d put on his loosest jeans today, ‘cos otherwise he’d have been giving a show to most of the school.

So he was maybe a bit handsy when he met up with Kurt in the parking lot at the end of the day to get a lift home. Maybe he kissed him a bit hard, a bit urgently.

Ok. So maybe he grabbed Kurt and pushed him up against the Navigator and did his level best to climb into the other boy’s mouth, shove his hands down those tight, distracting pants and fuck him standing up all at the same time; all the while making little desperate moaning noises in his throat.

Look; Kurt was wearing jeans that might as well have been sprayed on and he’d been doing provocative things like bending and walking and like, _breathing_ all day and Puck had been hard for _all of that fucking day_ , ok? Being a bit eager was understandable.

He heard a catcall of _‘Jeez, Puckerman – get a damn room!’_ from Santana and a piercing wolf-whistle that was most likely from Brittany, who’d always been able to give a two fingered whistle that would make a fire siren jealous. It was unfortunately also enough to break through to Kurt, who firmly pushed Puck away and started tidying his mussed up hair and clothes, saying with an unsteady attempt at nonchalance “I hadn’t realised it was that long since I saw you in 5th period”

“We’re going back to your place, right Kurt? Could we, like, maybe spend twenty minutes in the back seat first? Because otherwise I think my balls are going to end up permanently blue” Puck knew he sounded a bit frantic but, dude – he was seriously not kidding about his balls.

Kurt just gave him a raised eyebrow, unimpressed face and carried on fixing his hair, checking it in a little mirror he’d fetched out of his bag. He said firmly “No, we are _not_ spending time in the back seat. Your balls are fine, Noah, don’t exaggerate. And no – we’re not going back to my house. Your mother invited me to family movie night at your house tonight and as I haven’t seen her or Sara for ages I agreed to come along”

Oh, for… Puck could translate _that_ without a problem! Kurt had got caught by his Ma and she’d used her Jewish-mom-powers to guilt-trip some time out of him. The phrase _‘It’s like Noah’s a stranger the amount of time he spends in this house!’_ had probably come up. Possibly _‘you’re the closest thing I’ll get to a daughter-in-law now’_ as well, which was a really embarrassing one. Puck knew in the face of opposition like that he was helpless.

Great. He was getting cock-blocked by his own mother. Weren’t there laws against this kind of child abuse?

  
* * *

  
Puck still had a semi-wood by the time they got back to his house and even the prospect of watching one of his mom’s favourite Holocaust movies and seeing the chosen people under threat of the Nazi interpretation of ‘Wash ‘N Go’ for the nine hundredth time didn’t get rid of the prospect of it completely.

Watching Kurt greet Puck’s mom and sister and be all happy and laughing with them didn’t either, which Puck wasn’t happy with his dick for but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it.

It wasn’t that he found it sexy or hot or anything, it was just that Puck kinda liked the fact that Kurt got on so well with his family and that they obviously loved him back. It made him feel warm inside and, unfortunately, today any sort of warm or affectionate feelings for Kurt were getting interpreted by his dick as _‘happy-happy fun time now?’_ which led to ‘my _grandchildren_ will still be paying for my therapy bill’ situations like sprouting wood when he comes out from helping his mom with dinner in the kitchen to find Kurt sitting with Sara, both heads bent over her design homework and Kurt exclaiming softly that she was an incredible artist.

Puck thought he maybe made a noise, because Kurt looked up and caught his eye and gave him a smile that lit him up like he’d stepped into a spotlight, his eyes bright with affection. And Puck thought with a sort of wonder _‘I did that. He looks like that because he’s looking at me’_ and he had to swallow hard and cross his arms so he wouldn’t say or do something horribly sentimental and stupid.

Kurt just looked like everything good and kind and worthwhile there ever was at that moment. Puck couldn’t believe he looked so innocent sometimes.

  
* * *

  
Fifteen minutes later Puck _really_ couldn’t believe that Kurt managed to look so fucking innocent sometimes because his boyfriend was an evil, evil, EVIL person. Possibly a psychopath. Certainly someone who got off on torturing other people, the little bastard.

And he’d looked so sweet and sincere downstairs when he’d turned to Puck’s mom and said “Me and Noah are just going to his room for five minutes, if that’s alright, Mrs Puckerman. I need to sort something out with him for a project we’re doing”

Puck’s mom had said _‘fine, of course. Dinner and the movie in ten minutes, boys’_ and _‘Do call me Judith, Kurt’_ and then Kurt had grabbed his bag and they’d gone upstairs and Puck barely had time to close the door behind them before Kurt was turning to him with a wicked smirk on his face and saying “Go get on your hands and knees on the bed, Noah. Oh, and drop your pants”

What? Um. Don’t get him wrong, Puck did want to get off but if they only had a few minutes wouldn’t blow jobs be a better idea than more ass play?

Puck’s thoughts must have been clear on his face, because Kurt just rolled his eyes at him and said “Just do it, will you? Trust me”

So Puck found himself on all fours on his bed, facing the wall with his jeans and the underwear he had on for once pushed down to his knees, feeling a bit foolish. He heard Kurt rustling in his bag behind and then he jumped as, without warning, Kurt put two lube-slick fingers against his asshole. Kurt stroked his back gently with his other hand and said softly “Hey. It’s ok. I’m going to be careful but this is going to have to be a bit quick and dirty, ok?” and then without further ado started twisting the first finger into Puck.

It didn’t really matter. Puck was actually ok with quick and dirty. In fact, he wanted this enough that he didn’t think he could cope with long and drawn out right now. This was perfect.

Kurt had the second finger in him and then a third before Puck had taken more than a half dozen deep breaths; pouring on extreme amounts of lube to ease their way and now he was curling and bending his fingers inside, opening Puck up more and making him twist his neck to hide his face against his own arm and muffle his groans. And then –

Puck sucked in air in a whoop. That was **not** Kurt’s fingers anymore! What the fuck was that? It was hard and it felt tapered like a cone or something because Kurt was still pushing it in and it was still widening out, bulging and pressing the walls of his ass apart with a stretch he felt like a dull, smoulder rather than a burn. Then, just when he felt it might get painful in a second, the thing narrowed again and he could feel his ring contract and tighten around the base of whatever it was, holding it in place. He felt Kurt push against the thing, pressing it in a tiny bit, checking if it was secure, and then he whispered “You ok?”

Well… He now had a butt-plug in his ass (he wasn’t stupid, ok? What else could it be?), and he wasn’t 100% sure what he thought about that. But other than that little matter he was doing just dandy, Kurt. Thanks.

Kurt wiped him up with something and then got Puck to kneel up (which caused the plug to move against his prostrate in an… interesting way) and started helping him to pull his pants and boxers back up. Then he said “Oh! Wait – I forgot” and rustled in his back again for a second, then reached his arms round Puck, gently took hold of his cock (which knew _exactly_ what it thought of the plug and was hard as a rock), gave it one long, sweet stroke and then…

Snap.

Puck felt something clamp round his shaft and looked down to see that Kurt had fixed a cock ring onto him. A leather fucking _cock ring_.

Then Kurt tugged his waistband as a reminder and said cheerfully “Come on! Pull your pants up. Your mom’s expecting us downstairs for the movie” and before Puck could form a damn sentence beyond “Wha…?” Kurt was out of the room and gone.

Leaving the door open and Puck with his pants undone, a toy up his ass rubbing him in every right-wrong way, and his boner trapped in the erection equivalent of a wheel clamp.

Oh, god. This was going to damn well kill him. He didn’t even know how he was going to make it downstairs.

Kurt was an evil bastard and Puck was never going to trust him again. Ever.

  
* * *

  
‘Defiance’ was usually the best of his mom’s film choices (it was great getting to see the Jews kick some ass for a change) but about half way through the film his Ma paused it and cried in exasperation “My word, Noah! Will you sit still? I don’t know what’s up with you, squirming around like that!”

Sara was looking at him strangely as well but Kurt (bastard, bastard, _bastard_ that he was) blinked all naive and blameless and said earnestly “I don’t know what the matter is either, Judith. Did you have too many slushies today, Noah?” he turned to Puck’s mom and said confidingly “They’re _full_ of sugar, you know. I think they make him hyperactive”

All three of them stared at him and tutted like he was a toddler who needed looked after, only Kurt had an impish, wicked glint in his eye as well and Puck felt his stomach drop because, oh shit. He had a bad feeling…

“I’ve got an idea” Kurt’s blue eyes were pools of limpid innocence as he got up from the wingchair and walked over to Puck on the couch, prodding him back into the cushions and settling in front of him between his spread legs, capturing Puck’s arms and getting him to wrap them securely around him. “There!” he said brightly to Puck’s mom “Now Noah can just hold onto me instead of fidgeting!”

Puck’s mom nodded happily and started the film again and Puck sucked in air sharply as Kurt half turned toward him – rubbing his ass oh-so-accidentally against the hard-on that had been the cause of Puck’s twitching for the last forty minutes – and murmured “Now, isn’t that better?”

Evil, evil, _evil_ little bastard, bastard, _bastard_.

As soon as Puck had some blood flow back to his brain, he was going to start plotting his revenge.

For now, he just sat there, biting his lip and trying to whimper too loudly.

  
* * *

  
By the time the credits rolled Puck was about ready to cry, or at least beg.

Because if Kurt didn’t let him get off sometime very soon he really was going to explode, despite the cock ring, and if he creamed his jeans in front of his Ma and his baby sister he was going to have to kill himself out of shame, if he didn’t die of embarrassment first.

He nearly did start crying or screaming when his Ma turned to him and Kurt and asked “Did you want to watch another one?” because _nononono_ – he couldn’t _cope_ with anymore!

But oh, praise _god!_ Kurt just smiled sweetly and replied “Oh, that would be lovely Judith but we can’t. We were going to go back to my house”

He got up and helped up Puck (who’s fucking _legs_ were shaking) and then thankfully stood in front of him as he added “I hope it’s ok with you if Noah stops over? We promised Finn that we were going to have a marathon Xbox session and we’ll probably be up quite late”

Puck knew damn well they hadn’t promised Finn any such thing but he was too busy trying to control himself to say anything – especially when his mom said with an indulgent smile “Oh, that’s fine. You boys run along and get back to your toys. Enjoy yourself, Noah, _tateleh_ ”

Oh, she had **no** idea.

His mom even came to the door to see them out and Kurt (words could not _express_ what a bastard this boy was) said in a loud voice laden with false concern “I’ll drive, shall I Noah? You still look a bit… distracted”

Puck gritted his teeth until the were in the car – and he couldn’t help letting out a whimper as his ass hit the seat – and, after breathing hard for a couple of seconds turned to a giggling Kurt and hissed “See?! This is how I know German’s are evil. Forget that Nazi shit – this right here, what you’re doing? **_This_** is true evil, you German fucker!”

Kurt had to wipe tears of laughter from his eyes before he could see to drive. Puck hated him.

Especially when Kurt started to hum ‘Tiny Little Moustache’ in a falsetto as he drove and Puck couldn’t keep hold of his righteous indignation and started laughing. Who could resist Stephen Lynch, after all?

The extra stimulation that shot through him when he laughed made him gasp and quit it pretty quick though, and he didn’t even try to stop the groan he gave. They were pulling up to Kurt’s drive by then and he closed his eyes and said desperately “Oh fucking god, Kurt. _Please_ tell me I’ve not got to go in and make normal conversation with your dad and Carole. I don’t think I can!”

“Hey…”

Puck felt a hand on his cheek and when he opened his eyes and looked over Kurt was serious again, and his eyes were soft and fond “It’s ok. Carole and my dad are away for the weekend again and Finn’s not here either. He’s spending the night over at Rachel’s” Kurt gave him a small grin “Sleeping on the sofa, of course. Her dads’ think its really funny to mess with him and pretend to be overly protective even though they’ve told her they’ll buy her condoms if she wants”

And Puck would normally smile back about that but he really did not give the tiniest flying fuck about Finn and Rachel’s love life at the moment because he was so close to the edge he was about to fucking fall off.

Kurt actually had to steady him again when he got out of the car and it took all his concentration just to put one foot in front of the other and make his way into the house. He would have grabbed for Kurt then but the other boy backed away down the hall to his room, saying soothingly “Let’s get down to my room, alright? Then I’ll make all this up to you, don’t worry Noah. I promise”

So Puck took one more deep breath in a useless attempt to calm himself, and started down the stairs.

  
* * *

  
Kurt had to help him undress.

By now Puck’s fingers were trembling so much he couldn’t even undo the button on his jeans so Kurt had to do it for him, and then kneel down to pull them down his legs and take off his trainers and help him step out of his pants and boxers.

Then he stood up slowly, trailing his hands up Puck’s sides to push his shirt up and off over his head.

And then he just looked. Just stood and looked at Puck as he stood there shaking without saying a word until Puck couldn’t stand it any more and he choked out a “ _Please…_ ”

Kurt’s breath caught and he said low “ _Fuck…_ ” and yes – yes _please_. That.

Please.

Kurt got him to lay down on the bed and then Puck watched as he undressed as well, carelessly and not taking his eyes off Puck once. Then Kurt grabbed a bottle of lube and a condom from the side cabinet (where he must have put them earlier, must have left them there eons ago before he went to school, just waiting for this…) and dropped them on the bed next to Puck and climbed up to kneel between Puck’s spread legs.

He carefully put his hand down and pressed very gently against the plug, and the way it moved inside and sent jolts through Puck was just too much and his breath hitched in a sob and he started babbling out a broken stream of _‘no, no – please, Kurt, please – I just, I want – fuck, pleeease!’_

And Kurt leaned over him and kissed him, saying _‘shush, shhh – it’s ok, Noah, it’s ok – god! You’re so fucking gorgeous like this’_ and then – oh, thank fucking god – he was grabbing the lube and the condom and easing the plug out and it had been so long now that Puck felt like he was naked and empty without it and he moaned _‘no, no, no – please’_ once more because he needed it back, needed something to fill that blank space inside him again.

But it was alright, because Kurt was there, trembling just as much as Puck now; and Kurt was putting the condom on himself and slicking himself up and smearing more lube onto Puck and then finally, finally lining himself up and very, very slowly pushing inside.

It was nothing like the plug. Not like that or like fingers or the vibe or the other toys they’d used. It was Kurt – Kurt inside him, bigger and wider and stretching Puck more than he had been before. Kurt holding himself up above him with shaky arms and leaning down to kiss him as he moved his hips and started fucking Puck properly; slow and steady and strong, his cock sliding in and up against the sensitive walls of Puck’s ass and making him groan with every stroke.

It was Kurt. Kurt that he had his legs wrapped round, that his hands were clutching at. Kurt who was kissing him over and over and muttering again and again between kisses that he was _‘so fucking good, so fucking amazing – oh, Christ Noah, so fucking beautiful’_

And he was hitting Puck just right with every fucking thrust now, sending sparks of pleasure through him that were building up inside him till he was nothing but a mass of blissful sensation aching to burst out – and then just when he thought he couldn’t take one more drop without his heart bursting with it Kurt reached down between them and snapped off the ring from around Puck’s cock and that was it. His back arched up and his body clamped down and he slammed his head back and he fucking _screamed_.

Coming and coming. Pulsing between their stomachs like he’d never spunked up before in his life.

His brain shorted out, and the last thing he felt or heard was Kurt’s cock jerking inside him and his cry of _‘Noah!!’_ as he came as well.

  
* * *

  
Puck’s brain took a very, very long time to start working again.

For a while he just lay there, panting and shivering every so often. Not from cold – it was warm enough in the room and Kurt was curled up collapsed around him now like a sweaty human space-heater – but because his whole body was still humming with sensation and the occasional wave of sensitivity was still sweeping over him, making him feel like he was high or something.

That had been pretty fucking awesome.

“You know?” he drawled out at last – and shit, he even _sounded_ stoned – “You’re quite good at that. I think I’ll keep you”

Kurt snorted with laughter and gave him a little nip on his shoulder, then mumbled a dry “Thanks” as he kissed it better.

Puck thought of something “Hey! Even with the plug and everything I must have been tight and it was your first time doing the fucking – how the hell did you last as long as you did?”

Kurt spluttered “You have the sweetest post-coital conversation, Noah – you really do!” and when Puck craned his neck to check out his face he could see his boyfriend was blushing. Oh, well that must mean something. He poked him in the chest “Spill”

Kurt blushed harder and cleared his throat and then said in a rush “Well, if you must know I… Erm. Well, I masturbated like, three times today at school and once at your mom’s house when I went to the bathroom – I just wanted to make sure I’d last and make it good for you…”

He trailed off at the end and Puck just stared at him in amazement for a long moment, taking him in.

Kurt was still blushing and he looked uncomfortable and embarrassed.

He was sweaty. He was sweaty and messy and his hair looked like a tornado had hit him and then dragged him through a hedge. He was flushed and his face was shiny and he had scratches and red, finger-shaped pressure marks on his chest and arms. He had come splattered on him still and there were shiny patches of lube drying tackily on his groin and thighs and hands. He looked a complete messy wreck.

And he was the most beautiful fucking thing that Puck had ever seen.

Kurt was absolutely fucking beautiful. He was incredible. He was fierce and gentle and he was an evil genius bastard and he was kind and he was about the strongest person Puck knew. And he put up with Puck’s crap and he smiled at him like Puck was fucking _worth_ it – like he was more than worth it, like he was something _precious_. And he came up with a week’s worth of kinky fucking shit and then jerked off in Puck’s bathroom _while Puck’s mom was downstairs_ even though Puck knew he must have been _mortified_ because he wanted Puck’s first time getting fucked to be good. And it had been.

It had been amazingly good. And Puck realised that – forget all the extras – that had been because it was _Kurt_ he was doing it with. And he felt a bright bubble of joy in his chest swelling up around his heart as he realised as well that there was one last ‘first time’ that he could give to his boyfriend.

He brushed Kurt’s hair back and cupped his face and said “Hey, Kurt?”

And yeah – that was the smile. The one that meant Kurt was the only person who would ever have got this first time from Puck. He let his own smile out, bright and wide and real and he let his happiness, his delight out into his voice as he said again “Hey Kurt?”

“I love you”

And that first time? That was easy as breathing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The store in Van Buen is called the [Lion's Den](http://lionsdenadult.com/content/view/29/76/) and it is a genuine, real life sex shop which Kurt should easily be able to drive to and back in an afternoon/evening (as Lima doesn't seem to have any adult stores). Yes, I googled this shit. Yes, I am a very sad git - we acknowledge this. Then we move on.
> 
> ...we move onto the fact that all the toys, books and _even the frickin lube_ also come from my googling. I spent *over an hour* looking through pages and thinking 'yes, but would Puck like that?' or 'It looks good, but there's no way Kurt would buy it if it only comes in that colour'  
>  *there is not enough facepalm in the world*
> 
> I also spent some time on a site about gay sex and, consequently, far more time than is healthy considering what angle Kurt's dick might curve at. (Look, it's a factor to consider for optimum prostate stimulation in various positions, ok?!)  
> (I decided his curves upward, btw)
> 
> The Japanese zombie-musical that Puck, Kurt, Finn and Rachel watch is 'The Happiness of the Katakuris'. It's an awesome film and I highly recommend it.
> 
> The bit of Hebrew Puck uses when talking to his sleeping sister - _metukah_ \- apparently means 'sweetie'. And Puck's mother calls him _tateleh_ \- little darling - near the end.
> 
> And speaking of Hebrew, my knowledge of Shabbat and Friday prayers comes strictly from Wikipedia so I do hope I haven't got anything wrong and I really apologise if I have.
> 
> And if you're a sick puppy like me and want to know about the sex toys:  
> [Oral sex spray](http://shop.lionsdenadult.com/details.link/tid/910167/toys/Go-Deep-Oral-Sex-Spray.htm)
> 
> [Vibrator](http://shop.lionsdenadult.com/details.link/tid/910051/toys/Bottoms-Up-P-Spot-Rocker-Smoke.htm)
> 
> [Puck's 'Telephone' present](http://shop.lionsdenadult.com/details.link/tid/987315/toys/Silicone-Prostate-Stimulator-2-Hole.htm)
> 
> [My first anal beads (and yes, they really are called that)](http://shop.lionsdenadult.com/details.link/tid/908189/toys/My-First-Anal-Beads.htm)
> 
> [Heating lube](http://shop.lionsdenadult.com/details.link/tid/977563/toys/Mini-Heat-Moist.htm)
> 
> [Flavoured lube](http://shop.lionsdenadult.com/details.link/tid/966770/toys/Sweet-Pomegranate-5-25oz.htm) (I particularly liked the fact it was advertised as 'does not block your pores'. I felt that would be important to Kurt!)
> 
> The [plug](http://shop.lionsdenadult.com/details.link/tid/962044/toys/Flirt---Purple-Haze.htm) & [cock ring](http://shop.lionsdenadult.com/details.link/tid/978911/toys/Nickel-Free-Six-Speed-Cock-Ring.htm ) (The amount of time Puck keeps the ring on is NOT realistic by the way, folks! Don't try that one at home)


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